


Switch Out The Batteries

by istajmaal, LoadedGunn



Series: sex shop fic (dildornado 'verse) [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: A TRULY INORDINATE AMOUNT OF RIMMING, Cock Ring, D/s, DAVID BECKHAM - Freeform, Daddy Kink, Dom Louis, Double Anal Penetration, Exhibitionism, Fisting, Flogging, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Orgy, Paddling, Panties, Sensation Play, Service Kink, Sex dice, Spanking, Sub Harry, Subspace, ball gag dildo thing, blindfolding, bottom dom louis, but also top dom louis, collaring, coming on command, emotional resolution through gangbang, everyone gets it in the ass it's 90k, love egg, remote control vibe, ruined orgasm, spreader bar, zourry threeway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 15:43:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 88,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1749935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/istajmaal/pseuds/istajmaal, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoadedGunn/pseuds/LoadedGunn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Harry raises an eyebrow. "Sex dice?"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Yup," Louis nods. "You know the ones we sell, one die for a body part and the other for an action to perform on that… part."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Isn't that what old married couples buy from you to spice things up?"</i>
</p><p><i>Louis frowns and opens his mouth to tell Harry off, but then he catches his absolutely dreamy expression and can only laugh. "Yes dear, we're just like any middle-aged married couple. Except for the fact that we're in our twenties and have a box full of bondage gear under our bed."</i> </p><p>Two years after meeting in a sex shop, Harry's just returning to Louis from a month-long tour in the States, and they come up with a wholesome bonding exercise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Edging, Coming

**Author's Note:**

> we'll start by saying this is set in the sex shop 'verse, set two years in the future. you don't need to read the original fic to understand this one. but really you should.
> 
> NOW, SEX DICE FIC!!! So this has loads and loads of kinks! We've divided the six POVs (guess who wrote who) into three chapters, so we can put the warnings accordingly. For instance, if you're not into flogging, you can just skip half of chapter 2 and catch up on chapter 3. However, there are default kinks: D/S and daddy, so if those aren't your cup of tea wait for our next fics.
> 
> In the end of the fic there's a list of resources we used regarding certain kinks, you're welcome to read up if you're curious! But please remember that safety is KEY, and this fic is not a manual for anything.
> 
> Also, if you wanna play with the sex dice yourself, we've created [a nifty PDF for you to print, fold, glue and enjoy!](http://loaded-gunn.tumblr.com/post/87984342491/download-the-full-size-instruction-sheet)
> 
> Finally, THANK YOU SO MUCH to Lila and Madelaine for betaing this monster, to Dina babyoflouis for making the instructions for the sex dice, and to everyone who helped us with the fisting and the gangbang! ( ˘ ³˘)❤

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The tags that apply to this chapter are: orgasm denial and overstimulation (for the Louis POV). Service kink, ruined orgasm, humiliation, collaring, ball gags (for the Harry POV).**

Louis barely gets out a "How was tour—" before Harry drops to his knees. Okay, it's not entirely unexpected, what with Harry pulling him into the airport bathroom and stationing security on the other side of the door. He's the kind of famous that requires a security guard now, and if that weren't enough to get Louis hard, having Harry kneel casually and press his mouth into his crotch would have sufficed. Also the fact they haven't seen each other in a _month_ , the longest they've been apart since they met two years ago.

"Was nice, lots of fun. Do you wanna talk about it or do you want your dick sucked?"

Louis wants both, to be honest, but his hand is already fluttering down Harry's tan face, pressing down on his full lips. Fuck, he missed him so fucking much. "Whatever you want."

Harry looks up at him with a smile, and unzips his jeans. "I wanna suck your dick. And hear your voice."

"Not like you haven't heard it, you know."

"Not the same," Harry huffs, tugging both his jeans and boxers down to his thighs. "I missed you a fucking lot."

Louis knocks off Harry's stupid hat and buries his hands in his hair. "You talking to me or my dick?"

Instead of clearing it up, Harry kisses the tip of his cock and starts swirling his tongue. Louis's hands tighten in his hair slightly and he sighs for a long moment. Right, his voice. "Well, I had a nice time too. Got a bit bored after, like, a day."

Harry nods for him to go on, but he keeps making it difficult by just licking along his cock like they've got all the time in the world. Or like Louis had any satisfying orgasms while Harry was away, and won't just come on his cheek if he keeps it up for longer than a minute. He figures now is as good a time as any to drop the bomb. "Started a workshop out of the backroom of The Craic. Good money."

"Yeah?" Harry asks, breathing wetly over his cockhead. "Like Zayn's design workshop?"

Louis grabs better hold of his hair, patience growing quite thin from hearing Harry's deep voice. "Not quite. It's a BDSM thing."

Harry actually pulls back and looks up with a frown. Right, okay, this is why Louis didn't tell him in the first place. He sort of had a niggling worry that Harry wouldn't like it, and if he'd been right and Harry _had_ tried to talk him out of it, Louis would have had to remind him that _he_ didn't veto Harry _leaving him for a month to go to America_ , and then they would have fought over Skype and it would've been awful. So Louis just didn't bring it up at all. Harry probably doesn't see the logic in that right now. "You had someone else sub—"

"No, Jesus, I didn't do demonstrations, except with tools," Louis huffs, pleasantly surprised by Harry's immediate concern. "It's mostly talking, you know I'm good at that." He leads Harry's mouth back to his cock. A wave of satisfaction rolls over him, either from Harry's jealousy or Harry's lips finally wrapping around him. "I did show them pictures of you, though."

 _That_ gets Harry going. He sinks down the shaft and tightens his lips, makes Louis throw his head back and bang it on the wall. "Didn't think— _yeah_ —didn't think you'd mind. The couples were very impressed with you. Wonder what would've happened if they'd recognised you, hmm? If I didn't just show them your back and arse after a good session. If a fan knew what you got up to with your 'brunette hottie'." It was the most flattering title he's gotten since Harry came out. Maybe one day they'll actually use his name. Harry's taking him deep now, and Louis hasn't let up on his hair, knows he's feeling the burn he likes in his scalp. "Just made me miss you more, though. Can't feel your mouth through Skype."

It was more than that—it was the missed calls and the time difference and the fact Harry's an international superstar and Louis's a shopkeeper and the bickering _that_ led to—but none of that matters right now. Harry's _here_ , skin tanner and hair longer but he's here and he's his and he's intent on sucking Louis's brains out through his cock.

"Did you miss me too?" he asks, even though Harry already said. Harry hums again and reaches up to grab Louis's arse, subtly pulling him closer, further in. Louis takes the hint and starts pumping his hips, shallow little thrusts that make Harry's eyes flutter closed. "Bet you did. Surrounded by so many people, with no one to fuck you but me. Won't be surprised if you're wearing a plug right now."

Harry's response is to bury his whole cock down his throat, which both convinces Louis he guessed right and makes his knees buckle. Harry's always been good at this, his mouth is definitely not just for singing, but right now it's _special_ , it's after a month and it's in an airport toilet, and that makes Harry extra eager. Louis moans loudly and tangles his fingers in Harry's curls so he can keep him right where he wants him. "Got a surprise for you too, love."

Harry's jaw slackens even further, and his hands stop squeezing Louis's arse just for long enough to trail a finger between his cheeks and push curiously against his hole. He doesn't find a plug, but they both forget about it after a moment because Louis comes hard in his mouth.

Harry stays on his knees for a few minutes after Louis yanks him off his cock and watches him swallow gleefully. Louis's leaning heavily against the wall and they're just staring at each other in wonder. He's still half-convinced he's going to wake up in their empty bedroom again. His heart aches a little, like it's grown too big for his chest just from seeing Harry again. It's kind of good to know that the ridiculous amount of love he has for this ridiculous boy hasn't diminished during their time apart. He's just petting Harry's hair gently now, playing with him. "Sometimes I feel like I'm living in one of your sappy love songs."

Harry's grinning so wide he has to hide it in Louis's thigh. "You say the sweetest things after you fuck my mouth," he replies, voice all scratchy and hot from said mouth-fucking.

Louis tugs on a few curls. "How am I so in love with such a dickhead?"

He can actually feel Harry blushing. "The songs are all for you, y'know. Doesn't matter who I'm performing in front of. Idiot."

"Aw, darling," Louis coos, tugging again but this time to pull Harry to his feet. "Why don't you keep saying sweet things to me while I return the favour?"

It's kind of hard for Harry to talk, especially when Louis turns him around to pull out the plug and eat him out, but between his moans and curses he does choke out a few " _so good_ " and " _love you more than fucking anything_ ". It's nice and sweet. Even more when Louis doesn't let him come into his hand, so he ends up marking the wall.

If they didn't have a month of downtime, Louis would make him clean it with his tongue, but for now he swipes some toilet paper over the mess while Harry's clinging to him, his head buried in the crook of Louis's neck. Louis flushes it away and just hugs Harry back, holding him tightly and breathing him in. They're mumbling, talking over each other, anything to get the words out because they're too overwhelmed not to ( _I'm so happy to have you back I thought I wouldn't make it never leave me again_ ).

"Let's go home," Louis whispers eventually.

Harry nods automatically, even while he says, "Wait, um. You mentioned a surprise?"

Louis's stomach feels suspiciously fluttery when he strokes Harry's hair one last time and gently pushes him away. Harry scopes out his whole body, making Louis roll his eyes self-consciously. "It's not a sexy surprise."

Harry pouts, probably at being caught. "Not like I expected your dick in a box."

"I _watched_ you use the clone-a-willy I made, don't pretend you don't like my dick in a box."

Harry smirks at him, like he's either going to sing the song or make an awful joke. He surprises him by doing neither. "What's the fucking surprise, then?"

Louis sighs and, very slowly, shucks off his sweatshirt so he's standing in his tank top. Harry furrows his brows. "D'you finally get your nipples done?"

He rolls his eyes, and then turns around and hitches up his vest. Harry audibly slaps a hand over his mouth, but it does nothing to conceal his shocked gasp. " _Louis Tomlinson._ What have you done?"

Louis bites his lip so as not to grin too smugly. "Couldn't resist."

"You can't just... get a surprise matching tattoo," Harry accuses, his voice actually a bit choked up.

"I can't be a good boyfriend, Harold?"

Harry makes a frustrated sound and Louis can feel him getting closer, but still he doesn't touch the new tattoo on Louis's lower back. "When?"

"A week ago? Bit after I saw yours. That was permission to touch, by the way."

Harry doesn't need telling twice. He runs gentle fingers over both laurels, from his waistline to the flare of his hips. They're smaller than Harry's, framing the dimples of his back. They're fresh enough that he still has to put ointment on them, that it's not completely painless when Harry touches them, but it also feels really good. Particularly when Harry breathes hard into his hair and says, "They're beautiful."

Louis feels a bit flushed, awkward under Harry's stare. It wasn't the prospect of surprising him that kept him from telling Harry; it was how completely _pathetic_ it was to get a matching tattoo this large just because he felt a bit vulnerable without Harry at his side. "Of course you'd say that, they match your design."

Harry tuts at him and properly buries his nose in Louis's nape. " _You're_ beautiful. I can't believe you went and—shit, if I—" He presses up against Louis, crotch-to-arse so their tattoos are probably aligning. He curses again. "They're gonna touch, you know, when I fuck you from behind."

Louis nods, trying his hardest not to let Harry's words affect him. "Yeah."

"Is that why? I mean, why you got them? Because you like it when I do?"

" _No_ , Harold, I got them because you kept sending me pictures of yours, branches coming out of your fucking crotch, and I wanted to feel closer to you _somehow_ because I swear to god that month felt like three years. So get your mind out of the gutter." He grinds back against Harry for emphasis.

Harry doesn't say anything sappy in return, which is a bit of a relief, until he moves back and Louis can't feel his heat anymore. And then Harry drops to his knees, _again_ , and his fingers hook in Louis's waistband and his _tongue_ is tracing the laurels, wet and insistent and Louis's starting to lose control. It's truly a blessing that Harry knows to ask before doing anything. "Can I?" he mumbles into Louis's spine.

"No," Louis decides. He steps forward and turns around, back to square one, which is Harry kneeling in front of him. "Get up. Wanna touch yours now."

Harry stands clumsily and unbuttons his plaid shirt, revealing smooth, tan skin instead of an undershirt like a normal person. Louis doesn't ask him anything before he reaches out and grabs his hips, pressing his thumbs into the tops of the branches and making Harry gasp.

Louis's seen dozens of pictures, on his phone and on gossip blogs, but it's nothing like actually touching a new tattoo for the first time, feeling the sensitive skin under his hands and picturing—everything. Harry riding him and Louis gripping his hips and pressing his thumbs into the tattoos, Harry stretched out on his back with his legs thrown over Louis's shoulders and Louis holding him down so hard he's leaving marks on the pretty art, blowing Harry and licking his way down his long, lean body and sucking bruises into the lines, eating Harry out for hours until there's come over bruises over ink. " _Jesus_ , love."

"Fuck me," Harry says, sounding just as breathless as Louis. "Please, right now, it's been so fucking long. Look, I've got—" It looks like it pains him to step away from Louis, but he does and he picks up his silly hat and— _produces lube and condoms out of it_.

Like all the tension in the room has been drained at once, Louis completely forgets what they were doing and doubles over laughing. "Did you just— _how—_ for fuck's sake, Harold."

Harry's face is a mix of embarrassed and smug, the way he is when Louis finds anything he does funny, even if it's at his expense. "There's like a ribbon inside, I tucked them under it. Thought you'd find it funny."

Louis just launches himself at him, makes him drop the hat again and grab him instead. "You're the most ridiculous person in the universe," he declares into Harry's neck.

"Who you have four— _five_ matching tattoos with. And a house and stuff."

"Unbelievable. How the mighty have fallen."

" _In love_ ," Harry hums, and suddenly Louis feels like screaming from how much he adores him.

"Let's go home, I don't care about your kinky magician's hat. I wanna fuck you for _hours_ in our bed."

Harry isn't opposed to that plan. Neither is his bodyguard, who must have felt a bit awkward blocking the entrance to the loo so they could reunite. The fans make it a bit harder, as eager to greet Harry as Louis had been, but no one is too rude to Louis or overzealous to Harry.

They're going home.

*

The thing is, they're a really sweet couple. Like, unbearably clingy, never focused on anything else, always rattling on about each other's magnificence. They do it in public (like, really public, Harry doesn't _stop_ talking about his amazing boyfriend whenever the press brings it up), but they do it in private, too. Stuttering compliments while they're balls-deep in each other, which has been pretty much non-stop since Harry came back. After, Harry spooning him, their matching tattoos lining up between them, and Louis's half-asleep and all he can think is that he never ever wants anyone else's arms around him, he'll never feel this way with anyone else, so he lifts Harry's hand to his mouth and kisses his rings and murmurs _I love you_ and Harry's fully asleep but he still nuzzles into him.

The point is they're cute little shits. Except for the times Louis fucks Harry up.

It started a month into their relationship, when everything was still new and cautious and Louis didn't want to bring up anything that might make the hot guy he was dating uncomfortable. Niall Horan was the instigator, as he often is. The three of them snuck into a hotel and were chilling by a pool and then Niall splashed Louis, all down his front. Louis hates getting wet, particularly when he's innocently sunbathing and not paying any attention to Harry and Niall chicken fighting. So he got up, yanked out the fuzzy belt of his hotel bath robe, and whipped Niall while chasing after him.

When his outrage had dissolved, he found Harry sitting cross-legged by the pool chair. He looked up at him with a deep blush and bright eyes, and asked breathlessly, "You seem good at that."

Louis answered, bright-eyed and breathless himself, "I am."

If they're good at the relationship stuff, they're _excellent_ at the BDSM stuff. It's not full-time, but they need it often, get off on it best, and miss it when they can't. Currently, Louis's losing his mind with how much he craves it. It's been a week since Harry's returned, making it five weeks since their last scene, and Louis's _buzzing._

The problem is they can't find the time. Harry's got all these people he has to meet with, even though he swore to Louis up and down he'd have downtime after the tour, and Louis has to do respectable shop-owner things. There's also the anticipation and frustration building up _expectations_. Louis knows he can deliver, it's the one thing he knows he's good at, but…

There's this tension between them now. It's buried deep under the surface, but Louis feels its jagged edges when they're not together. The long-distance sniping that never really got resolved, the constant fear that Harry'll be off again sooner than expected. It's been so long that Louis's afraid they're out of sync, and if he's not confident, he's not going anywhere near that territory. He'll fuck Harry as hard as he asks for it, but he won't dom him.

Like most good things in his life, the solution comes from Niall Horan. "Sounds to me like you're just stuck in a rut, bro," he gives his professional opinion, while sucking on a joint and losing spectacularly on FIFA.

"What are you talking about? We fuck all the time. We fucked three hours ago right where you're sitting."

Niall doesn't even flinch. He's pretty jaded about this stuff, probably because he'd been running a sex shop for two years and then moved on to actually making the products at a fancy Adult Toys company called One Thing. It's one of the reasons Louis loves him more than 95% of the general population. Not the career part—though that definitely worked out in his favour, both in inheriting the shop and in getting to try out prototypes with his ever-willing boyfriend—but the fact Niall will listen to him talk about practically anything. Sometimes he'll even be helpful. "You've been fucking but you haven't been _fucking_ , y'know? And the longer you're stuck in a rut the harder it'll be to get out of it, and I don't think I can live in a world where you're not a couple, so you better sort that shit out. Spice things up, isn't that what we tell people?"

Louis glares at him so hard he's surprised the spliff doesn't relight itself. No one's _ever_ told him to spice up his love life. He _is_ the spice, has been domming people since he was old enough to get into fetish clubs. Niall doesn't seem affected in the least by his glaring, so Louis just deflates on his own. "How am I supposed to do that? We're pretty fucking spicy, you know."

Niall just does the inconceivable and drops his controller mid-game. Louis pauses it quickly and turns to yell at him, but Niall's got a spark in his eye that has nothing to do with the weed. Probably. "I'd say you're asking the right fucking man. Give me a list of kinks you both like and I'll make you something."

Louis quirks an eyebrow. Taking advice from Niall is always a gamble, since his ideas range from lighting up his own farts to a hot pink St. Andrews Cross. Louis takes a hit and decides to trust him this once. He's got nothing to lose. "You want it alphabetically or in order of severity?"

Niall rolls his eyes, and by Saturday morning Louis's got the perfect solution in the palm of his hand.

_Extreme Sex Dice—For Crazy Mofos_

Louis kisses Niall squarely on the mouth, and then kicks him out of the house. He's promised himself he won't actually open the box without Harry, so they could share that too, but something tells him Niall hit home with this. It's perfect because it's fun and playful, because two dice mean thirty-six... spices, and because Louis's a competitive motherfucker. When he plays something, he plays to _win._ If he has to, he'll lock Harry in the house for however long it takes him to find a way to win at sex dice.

It's just the edge he needed. They have a mission now, and they're not called The Dream Team for nothing. He's _confident._

There's a spring in his step when he strolls back to the bedroom where he'd left Harry to go answer the door. He spares maybe a minute or five to gaze at Harry sleeping like an angel, and then throws himself on the bed and elbows Harry awake. Harry grunts and blinks at him miserably, so Louis makes sure to kiss his sleepy face and sing _You Are My Sunshine_ until Harry's giggling and tackling him back on the mattress for a kiss.

"Why are you even awake?" Harry asks into his chest, voice raspy as sandpaper from sleep.

Louis wriggles a little just hearing him. "Niall came by to drop something off for us."

"You already smoked up all the shit he brought on Wednesday?"

"No, idiot." He rattles the box over Harry's back. "Something from the Batcave."

Harry's head snaps up so fast his fringe flops over his eyes. "Oh. What is it then?"

Louis frowns. "You don't seem so excited, maybe I should open it with Zayn or—"

" _Please_ , baby, I wanna see, let me see," he whines, putting his chin in his hands and batting his lashes at Louis. He should've gotten rid of him while he still had the chance. Harry will be the death of him.

He holds the box up in front of Harry's face. "Surprise!"

Harry just raises an eyebrow. "Sex dice?"

"Yup. You know the ones we sell, one die for a body part and the other for an action to perform on that… part."

"Isn't that what old married couples buy from you to spice things up?"

Louis frowns and opens his mouth to tell Harry off, but then he catches his absolutely dreamy expression and can only laugh. "Yes dear, we're just like any middle-aged married couple. Except for the fact that we're in our twenties and have a box full of bondage gear under our bed. And aren't married."

" _Yet_." Harry ducks his head to kiss Louis's chest tattoo sweetly. "Does that mean we'll play?"

"That's generally what you do with dice," Louis says, tangling his fingers in his hair.

Harry scrapes Louis's nipple with his teeth. "I mean, _play_ -play."

He sounds cautiously excited. Louis wonders if he's looked forward to this half as much as Louis has. "Yes, sweetheart. I mean, I hope. I actually have no idea how he put the Extreme in Extreme Sex Dice, I haven't opened it yet."

Harry's eyes are definitely glittering with excitement when he rolls off of Louis and sits cross-legged beside him. "D'you have anywhere you need to be today?"

There were vague plans, but he can't remember a single one of them when he looks at Harry, sleepy-soft and dishevelled and eager and naked next to him. "Absolutely nowhere. You?"

"Nope." He doesn't even hesitate, bless him. Louis's fingers are jittery already.

"Let's see what he cooked up then."

  
([x](https://36.media.tumblr.com/1d3a3bcd3213204dc77ab2d2c48b6ab2/tumblr_nqeaj4eKG91uxvan6o1_500.jpg))

He upends the box on Harry's abs, and out come two dice and a piece of paper with "Instructions" bolded at the top. Normally he'd be very speculative, think about the product's value, potential popularity, gender/orientation-inclusiveness. Right now, staring at Harry's butterfly tattoo and the fact there's a die with the word "Spanking" on it, his brain is pretty much blank. Harry notices the die's face at the same time and gasps, making his abs jump and the die to turn again. Landing on _Lingerie_. All fucking _right_.

The other die seems to be a normal one, one through six, which makes him finally pick up the instruction sheet. Harry's less curious than him, content just staring at the dice. "He really made these just for us?"

"Well, I asked him to, yeah," Louis answers distractedly, smiling to himself when he sees exactly how personalised this is (the page is lined with ropes and anchors, and the font is, horrifically enough, Comic Sans). His inspection is interrupted abruptly when Harry pokes his head directly in front of his face and pecks his lips. Louis opens his mouth to ask what that was for, but Harry takes the chance and starts kissing him fiercely, pinning him back against the headboard and crumpling the page a bit. When he pulls back, Louis's out of breath and blinking rapidly. "You okay?"

"Brilliant. We can, like... pick up where we left off. Before." Harry pauses, then gives Louis a crooked smile."'S brilliant."

"Stop distracting me then, you twat," he says, pushing Harry away so he can straighten out the instructions."Oh, okay, so we roll both dice at the same time. The one with words is called the action die, and the normal die is the number die. Very creative of Nialler, I'll say."

"So like, what happens if I roll lingerie and five? It's five pairs of panties?"

Louis snorts at the thought. "No, it says that the number die corresponds with like, instructions that are on this page. So there's something special for each face of the die. Maybe he is creative, then."

"He's bloody amazing, and we're gonna send him very expensive shoes, Louis," Harry insists, pout in his voice. "Can we start already?"

"Fine, but I'm rolling."

Harry just nods, clapping his hands excitedly. Louis kisses his forehead and then the dice. He's going to _win_ , he can feel it.

He lands on _Edging_ and _2_ , which makes them both gulp and then grab the page at the same time, nearly tearing it. Louis manages to wrestle it out of Harry's grabby hands, but it's not particularly insightful.

_If the action die lands on **EDGING** , the number die signifies the timeframe within which the roller must keep their partner on the edge of orgasm._

And he rolled… Two. Oh. That's no challenge, is it? Harry will manage to last two hours just fine. Louis huffs, wondering if he could get away with a redraw because clearly the surface of the blanket was uneven. Before he can suggest it, Harry says, "That's a bit much, isn't it?"

Louis arches an eyebrow at him. Harry waves his hands aimlessly. "Two days."

 _Oh_ , that… changes things. Louis instantly brightens, mind coming up with ten plans per second. Two days is a long time to play. "It could also be two hours," he says, in fairness. Knowing Harry, though, he won't back down from the challenge. "Which do you want it to be?"

Harry curls up in thought and taps his fingers over his mouth. "I'm guessing we won't just be eating chips and waiting for the time to pass?"

Louis grins mischievously at him and just shakes his head. Harry flushes and pushes his hair back. "Days," he decides.

"There's my good boy," Louis says and drops a kiss to Harry's shoulder, incredibly pleased with him. Harry leans into him immediately. "D'you want two days or two nights?"

Harry actually shivers against him. He's so keyed up already, it's amazing. Louis's a genius. A sexual savant. A relationship guru. "We'll see how I feel tomorrow?"

Louis nips Harry's shoulder sharply. "You know I don't like that."

He might be spontaneous, mischievous and, well, reckless, but when he plays he doesn't do it by ear. This isn't something to fuck around with, no matter what they do in particular, especially since… Louis's been in the scene for years now, while Harry was completely unfamiliar with it before they met. He's racked up two years of experience by now, but Louis being his first and only dom puts all kinds of responsibilities on Louis. What if one day he'll suggest something and Harry will just agree because Louis said so? The only way for Louis to consider it without hyperventilating is to set hard limits before they even touch each other. Like now. "It's just noon now, innit? We'll start now and finish tomorrow night. Almost two days. Does that sound okay?"

Harry nods excitedly and kisses Louis's forehead. "Perfect."

"You know what, I think I'll put an alarm for us. Tomorrow at nine. So we'll know." He's mostly speaking to himself. Harry doesn't really care about the logistics, he knows Louis will take care of him. A thought occurs to him, and he tries to sound very casual when he says, "Actually, the instructions don't say you, like, _have_ to sub for this. Do you feel like it?"

"Yes," Harry answers immediately. "I... I don't think I could without. Um. I think we need it."

He's getting more flustered by the minute, pressing his knees up to his chest and leaning on Louis more. Louis wraps an arm around him and rubs circles against his arm, even as relief threatens to drown him. "All right, baby." That gets Harry's attention. He perks up and looks at Louis from under his lashes. "Let's take a good long shower and then I'll spank you to get us in the mood, yeah?"

Harry's got something in his eyes that tells Louis he's already in the mood. It's always so easy for him to fall into him, trusting and lovely to a fault, even more so after five weeks without. It's going to be two long days.

*

"Please, more," Harry moans, rocking back even before Louis lifts his hand back up.

Louis gives him one more, a slap that rings around the room and makes his arse jiggle a little. He's a vision. "Are you going to come, baby?"

Harry's panting heavily, needs time to mull that over. Or maybe he's waiting for Louis to spank him again. (He doesn't.) "Yeah."

Louis smiles to himself and cups Harry's flaming cheeks in both hands, squeezing and petting and making him tense. Clearly playing with him in the shower had been a good idea. Louis can't always tell how Harry's going to take a spanking—sometimes he asks for it and doesn't even get hard, just wants the pain and... submission. Today it brought him right to the edge, and that's precisely where Louis wants to keep him. It's all coming back to him like no time had passed at all; what to do or say to wind Harry up, how to dominate him just the way he likes.

He stands up and shakes out his hands, both wrists a little sore. It's welcome, though, it's beyond welcome, another week and Louis would've asked _Zayn_ if he was in need of a good spanking. Harry moves back a little as if to follow him, but he doesn't actually stop sprawling on the edge of the bed. "We're done," Louis tells him. Harry slumps, his muscles visibly relaxing. Louis smiles at his boy, wants to soothe his red cheeks with his tongue. Instead, he grabs the lotion bottle from their dresser.

He hops on the bed and leans on the headboard, gets comfortable before opening his arms. "Come here, love."

Harry scrambles instantly, crawling into Louis's lap and settling with his knees on either side of him. It's not that Louis's forgotten how Harry responds to this, what a perfect boy he can be, but it's still a bit overwhelming to experience after so long. His cock is hard and thick between them, obvious, but Harry's clearly trying not to bring attention to it. Louis has to nod before Harry buries his face in the crook of his neck and wraps himself all tight around him.

Louis pours some lotion into his hands and fits them over Harry's arse, petting and rubbing. "That's it, darling. You feel so lovely for me. Took it very well."

Harry's nodding for him to keep talking, but he's not really relaxing into Louis's arms like always. He's still keeping himself in check, body taut like a spring waiting to snap, so Louis grabs better hold of his sore arse and tugs him close, until he's suddenly grinding against his cock. Harry gasps sharply and drapes himself over Louis, starts biting his shoulder when Louis gets his wet hand between them so the friction isn't so bad.

But when it's not bad it's good, and Harry can't seem to handle "good" right now. His hips keep bucking and he brings himself even closer to Louis, like he's trying to lose himself in him. "Please, can I?" he whispers, nails digging into Louis's back.

Louis brings both his hands back to Harry's arse and he starts kneading his hot skin, rutting his hips up, sliding just right against Harry. "No."

Harry pants even harder. "Please, I need to come, I have to."

"You don't," Louis says simply. Harry still seems doubtful, so Louis starts bringing his hands closer together, until his fingers are just brushing his crack. Harry's knees clench around Louis, probably mirroring the way he's clenching inside. Louis wants to find out _so much_ , but he's still teasing him, barely fluttering over his hole and grinding against him even harder.

"Oh god, please, Lou," Harry whispers, providing the perfect opportunity. Louis slides two fingers into him and Harry moans right in his ear and trembles so bad Louis has to secure his other arm around him to make sure he doesn't squirm off. "Fuck, fuck, Lou, I can't."

"You can," Louis tells him, screwing his fingers in deep and closing his eyes at how tight Harry is, always inviting. "You can do it, baby, I know you can hold it for me." He wants so much to use the word already, wants to ratchet the heat even higher, but he needs to hear it from Harry first. He knows that he's almost there, not from his twisting hips, not from his rock-hard cock, but from the way he's whispering nonsensically into Louis's shoulder. "Who's gonna come, Harry?"

"You," he says on a whimper, surrendering completely. Louis wants to kick himself for keeping them waiting a whole week—this is exactly what they needed to get over the infernal month apart. Louis doesn't even know what they _are_ when they're apart, what role he plays in Harry's life when he's performing in front of thousands in New York City and Louis's selling dildos in Manchester. Right now, he knows exactly what his role is, what the steps are. He _knows_ that Harry needs him, and Harry _knows_ that he's being good for him, and it probably means more than it should. But it's them. Playing like this snaps them right back into _their_ place.

"Won't happen on its own, baby," he comments, sounding as indifferent as he can in his current state. Harry suddenly gets all stiff in his arms and tight around his fingers, his mouth wet but voiceless against Louis's skin. For a moment Louis thinks he pushed him too far, that Harry's coming barely an hour after they rolled the dice. He wants to kick himself again; fingering Harry was supposed to take the edge off, not make him come faster.

Only, Harry doesn't. Just as soon as he seized up, he recoils, melting into Louis again like... like the spring finally snapped. "Yes, Daddy."

There it is. Fuck, Harry says it so softly and—it's probably his favourite kink of Harry's, just hearing him makes Louis fuck into him harder and push him closer to his cock.

Now that he has a mission, Harry is somewhat less of a useless mess. He starts grinding against Louis more purposefully, clenching around his fingers and moaning. He's everywhere, over and around and on him, breathing hard in his ear and smelling like sweat. Louis can feel how much Harry still wants to come, because half the reason the friction between them is so good is that Harry's stiff cock is leaking like crazy. "You're doing so well, baby. Wanna come so bad, don't you?"

Harry nods miserably, his teeth sinking into Louis's skin again like he can't help it. Louis groans and pounds his fingers so deep that Harry's jostled forward and harder against his cock. Harry whimpers again and fuck, Louis loves that. He talks dirty to wind Harry up, but it's not like he remains unaffected. Just hearing Harry agree so easily to Louis's complete control over him, it's mindboggling in the best way possible. "You're gonna wait like a good boy, aren't you? Have to settle for getting your daddy off again and again. Think that'll make it even harder? Bet it will, I know how much you love getting me off."

"I do," Harry whispers, probably can't contribute anything more to the conversation. It's okay, talking is Louis's thing. He used to operate a phone sex line before he started working at the shop. (Louis's been leading a very dark, provocative life, really. When they have kids they're going to finish school and get master's degrees and make every decision Louis didn't.) It's okay because Harry doesn't need to talk as long as he keeps working his hips in tight circles over him, fucking back on his fingers. Louis suddenly wishes he could see his face, but he can't bear the thought of not being wrapped up in him like this.

Louis's so close he feels too hot, trapped in Harry, and he can't imagine how Harry feels. If it weren't for the dice Louis would've made him come twice by now, once from the spanking and once with his hand wrapped around them both. Fuck, Louis wants that. "Baby, I want your big hand around me. Get it between us and jerk us off, can you do that for me?"

Harry muffles a whimper in Louis's neck and ruts up against him like he can't help the subtle twitch of his hips. "Daddy, what if I—"

"You won't," Louis assures him confidently. It's the tone he knows could make Harry believe the sun rises in the West. "You're my good boy, aren't you? Took the pain so well, I know you can take the pleasure." It's not even his faith in Harry being good, it's the clear knowledge that as soon as Harry gets his hand around them it'll only take two pulls. It's been too long for Louis to last.

Harry holds his breath when he snakes his hand between their stomachs. Louis takes one hand off Harry's arse and grabs his hair instead, yanking his head back and giving him a kiss. It's sloppy and filthy, teeth biting hard and tongues meeting halfway. It distracts Harry enough to let his hand slip over their slick cockheads, and then he gets a good grip and strokes down.

It's as good as Louis thought it would be. Harry's big hand is tight on them, they're too caught up in it not to be, and their cocks are pressed as close as they can be. They moan into each other's mouths and Louis gets careless, thrusts into Harry more purposefully than he should be, his instinct to make Harry feel good overriding everything. "Yeah, there you go," Louis whispers, bucking his hips so Harry bounces a little and gasps. "Gonna make Daddy come so good."

Harry pumps them faster and gets quiet, probably trying to concentrate. Louis nuzzles over his cheekbone until he reaches his ear and then bites hard on his neck. When he comes, _Harry's_ louder than him, whimpering needily and freezing his hand. Louis can't blame him for not milking him through it—the feeling of Louis's come over his cock probably makes not coming himself near impossible.

But he manages not to, because Harry Styles is a genius when it comes to keeping himself in check for Louis, and he's so proud of him the praise just spills out. "You can let go now, did _such_ a good job, I'm so proud of you."

Harry sighs happily and raises his hands like he wants to wrap them around Louis's shoulders. There's nothing Louis wants more than for Harry to snuggle in, but when Harry spots the come streaking his hand he looks from it to Louis hesitantly. Louis nods.

It's a marvel to watch, still pleasantly turned on. Harry brings his hand up to his mouth and starts to lick it clean, lapping up Louis's come meticulously. He moans around his fingers like it's all he'll ever need in his mouth, and Louis's so overwhelmed he almost can't look. He's never had a thing for come before Harry, and even now it's not the jizz itself—bitter and sticky—but the marking and the claiming and all the good stuff Harry goes crazy for. He's turning himself on, the idiot, starts wriggling and gently reminding Louis that he's still got two fingers in him. Louis wants to shove him back and throw his legs over his shoulders.

Jesus, when they rolled the dice on edging he thought this would only be difficult for Harry. He was an idiot. He _craves_ for Harry to come untouched between them, or all over his own laurel tattoos, or down Louis's throat, or inside him. He doesn't know when he started drawing his own pleasure from Harry's, probably a soulmate thing, like his orgasms don't really scratch the itch if Harry doesn't orgasm himself. It's quite unsatisfying, but just thinking about Harry losing his shit tomorrow has his toes curling in anticipation. Perseverance is key here.

He kisses Harry once and then withdraws his fingers, making Harry whine a little. He ignores him and grabs Harry's hips, pushing him off of him. "Daddy?" Harry asks timidly.

Louis pretends that doesn't affect him at all. He stands up and stretches out, barely sparing Harry a glance. "I'm going to shower."

Harry crawls to the edge of the bed and puts his feet on the ground, but he doesn't stand, unsure if he's invited or not. Good. He's not. He seems to struggle to ask the question, so Louis just tells him. "You're gonna stay here and wait. On your knees." He debates leaving it at that, but the involuntary groan Harry makes convinces him not to. If all Harry does is kneel on the floor and wait, he'll work himself into a frenzy. Louis wants both of them to cool off for half an hour at least, or they're not going to make it at all. "I want you to wipe yourself down with something, change the sheets, open the blinds, put a pillow on the floor, kneel on it and wait."

He leaves as soon as he said it, trusting Harry to start. The shower feels like heaven as he washes off the sweat and mess. He thinks about what they should accomplish during the edging, but that's not exactly soothing so he tries not to think at all. Which means he's thinking about Harry. With how mean he is to him in bed—with how mean Harry _wants_ him to be—they probably shouldn't be this co-dependent.

He comes out after a long time, long enough that when he sees Harry kneeling, he's wondering how long he's been there for. Harry's so tense he's shaking, but his dick is soft, so at least it worked. Louis steps right up to him and ruffles his wavy hair, muttering "good boy" automatically. Harry drops his head and nudges it against Louis's hipbone. Louis smiles helplessly and scratches behind his ear, curling his hair around his fingers. "Aren't you sweet?"

He feels Harry smile shyly against his thigh. "I waited."

"You did. Look at you." Louis also checks and sees that Harry changed the sheets to a freshly-washed set. It takes maybe half a second for the compulsion to get them dirty to set in. "Up you go."

Harry stands up on wobbly knees and bends over a little to work out the kinks in his back and _yeah_ , Louis knows what they're doing next. "Your arse is still a bit red, love. Why don't you lie down and I'll make it better?"

He's lying through his teeth—they didn't go nearly that hard, not after five weeks of no spankings at all—but Harry either doesn't know or doesn't care. He gets on the bed and lies down on his front, assertively putting a pillow under his hips so his arse is pushed up. Harry's intuitive like that. Louis takes the long way around, grabbing both the lotion and the lube. Just in case.

As soon as Louis strokes a finger down his spine, just a barely-there touch, Harry turns to putty. He spreads his legs so Louis can sit comfortably between them and not on them, folds his arms under his head and sighs like a contented kitten. Louis tries not to laugh.

He feels indulgent, so he makes good on his word and actually puts some lotion in his hands. However, he doesn't rub it in gently. Right from the start, Louis's squeezing Harry hard, kneading and pinching until Harry's happy sighs turn into pained little moans. His arse isn't bright red anymore but it must still be sore, oversensitive. Louis can't stop touching him, hoping he's making it worse.

He's even tempted to start spanking him again, but then he notices. For every squeeze, Harry, very subtly and minutely, rocks his hips forward, away from Louis's rough hands and into the soft pillow. Okay, new plan. Louis grabs a painfully tight hold on his arse and pushes down, until Harry grunts loudly and rubs his face into the mattress.

"Yeah? Like that?" Louis asks, moving his hands from Harry's cheeks to his hips so he can pull him up and then shove him back down. There's no doubt in his mind that Harry's hard against the pillow, might've been this whole time. Harry doesn't answer. Louis makes him bear down harder. "Want you to grind, Harry. Hump the pillow like a little boy who can't help himself."

" _Fuck_ ," Harry moans and starts right away, his hips snapping fast. Louis takes his hands off of him and just stares, mesmerised. Harry rolls his whole body into it, his thigh muscles clenching and his shoulder blades popping. It's almost as hot as the sentiment, really, the idea that Harry's so desperate to come he'll just hump something while his boyfriend watches. He'd spill right on the pillow he sleeps on.

He knows Harry's well into it now. It's not even the daddy thing, it's the fact that he doesn't ask to come anymore, just tells Louis that he's close so Louis can decide what he wants to do next. Louis's so hard the decision is made for him. "Stop," he says calmly, and Harry obeys instantly, though his body still recoils because of how hard he's been riding the pillow.

Louis wipes the lotion off on the sheets and then takes the lube, instead, pouring some out on his fingers. Harry can't see him, and Louis doesn't feel compelled to give him a warning. He puts his dry hand on one of Harry's arsecheeks and pushes until his pink hole is exposed. Easy as breathing, Louis pushes a finger into him, sliding right in. Harry groans and tightens up around him, but he's still a bit loose from earlier and even if he weren't, Louis knows he loves the pain. "Continue," Louis says.

It takes Harry a moment to even understand what Louis wants, and then he shudders under him and slowly starts to rock his hips, back against his finger and forth against the pillow. It's not even close to the rhythm he had before, but Louis guesses there are extenuating circumstances. So he adds another finger. People always tell him he's _difficult_. At least he's fucking someone who can rise to the challenge.

He's not even thrusting in or stretching them, lets Harry do it all. Harry's got no leverage spread out like this and it's making him work harder, makes his muscles flex and his breathing pick up. The faster he fucks himself on Louis's fingers the louder he gets when he falls back on the pillow and grinds his hips. He's sweaty and beautiful and _tight_.

Other than pulling out his fingers, he doesn't give Harry a warning before he positions himself behind him and starts pushing in the head of his cock. It also means he neglected to tell Harry to stop pumping his hips, so he _doesn't_ , he fucks back and forth and back and forth until he's got half of Louis's cock in him without Louis even moving. _Christ_.

Louis thrusts in the rest of the way and hunches forward, careful not to collapse on Harry. He doesn't think he could ever get enough of this feeling, this first slide into Harry's body, tight and hot and incredible. And Harry _keeps squirming_ on him. Louis straightens back up, grabs Harry's hipbones, takes a deep breath, and starts fucking him slowly.

Harry's sweet little moans fill the air between them, and he's still grinding, making it impossible for Louis to focus. It takes them forever to synchronise, but finally by some miracle everything just clicks. Harry pushes into the pillow when Louis pulls back, and then they both pump their hips toward each other so they meet with an audible slap, nearly drowned out by their heavy breaths and groans.

They keep it up, blissfully enough, Louis managing to hold the steady pace while making subtle changes to the angle of his thrusts. Harry freezes up suddenly, abandoning the relentless humping in favour of a shocked gasp. " _Oh_ , close, Daddy, close-close-close _fuck_ —"

Louis slips out of him and rises on his knees. He grabs Harry's hips and hoists him up with him, until his back is curved obscenely. How Harry manages to look so comfortable slumped on his front with his arse up in the air is a mystery. A glorious, sexy mystery. That doesn't matter right now. What's important is that he doesn't get friction on his cock, nothing like the pillow at least, so Louis feels pretty safe to line up and ram home.

He keeps his thrusts short and deep, like he can't bear to pull away. Harry's as accommodating as ever, making destroyed sounds every time Louis fucks into him just right. It sounds like he's winding up again, but Louis's too far gone to stop, knows he needs to get off before Harry says he's close again. "Doing so well, baby."

He spreads a hand on Harry's lower back and looks down, drinking in the sight of his cock pounding into Harry's tight little arse. Every time he hits Harry's spot Harry clenches so hard around him he can't breathe, can't keep his eyes open anymore. He chases that feeling until finally he comes, filling Harry up and curving over him, still pumping in and out weakly.

Harry's whining wildly, probably only cares about coming too, but Louis's got enough wits about him to remember the point of this whole thing. He pulls out of him and helps straighten him out, until Harry's lying on his back. He hasn't seen his face since he told Harry to lie down in the first place, so the wild look in his eyes makes Louis gasp in surprise. "Poor baby," he coos instantly, lying down as well and kissing his neck and chest soothingly. "I think it's time for you to shower and cool down."

Harry opens his mouth to say something, but all that comes out is a high-strung sigh and Louis can _see_ his cock twitch. Fine, he'll keep talking.

Eventually he manages to bring Harry down enough to get him on his feet. He makes sure not to touch him too often for the rest of the day, leads him gently from the bed to the shower to the living room, where they watch telly and nap all curled up.

They decide to have an early night, having kind of worked hard all day ( _on their relationship_ ), but Louis only gets a few hours of sleep before something startles him awake. Harry's a heavy weight all around him; somehow they ended up spooning, and—yes, that's what woke him. Harry's grinding slowly against the curve of his arse. "H," Louis whispers, tapping on his arm, but Harry doesn't stop and Louis realises that he's asleep. _Jesus_ , he's hard as iron behind him. Louis's own breathing picks up just feeling him.

"Babe," Louis says loudly, pinching him.

There's a loud snore and then suddenly he feels Harry freeze up behind him. He immediately unwraps his arms from around Louis and shuffles away, leaving Louis cold and confused. He musters up his will power and assumes a disapproving expression. He's got a hunch about how this is going to play out, and it doesn't involve him being turned on by Harry trying to get off on him in his sleep.

He turns around so he's facing him, and Harry looks _mortified_. He's cupping his cock and squeezing his eyes shut like he could just pretend this isn't happening and go back to sleep. Louis's stumped for a moment, wants to comfort him so much the words are just on the tip of his tongue, but he's not sure what Harry's in the mood for.

Until Harry whispers in a sleep-rough voice, "Daddy, I'm sorry."

Louis knows what to do from here. He tuts like Harry actually offended him. "That's not very good, is it, Harry?"

Harry shakes his head frantically. "No, I'm—sorry, I just. Feels like I'm on fire."

 _Fuck_. "How do you even manage when you're touring in another fucking country?"

Harry shies away from Louis farther and curls in on himself. "Doesn't feel like this when I'm not around you."

Louis was about to say something harsh—Harry begged him to be mean way too many times for it not to stick—but suddenly he forgets what he was about to say. That hit a bit too close to home, is the thing, so soon after getting Harry back. He decides to be kind, for once. He rolls closer to Harry and runs a hand through his hair. His voice softens automatically when Harry turns his face into it and settles. "I know, baby. I'm sorry, I think I might be going a bit crazy myself. Let's go back to sleep, yeah?" He kisses Harry's forehead sweetly. "You're gonna come so hard tomorrow."

It was meant to be comforting, but Harry makes this tortured sound and buries his face in the pillow, limp and miserable. The moonlight is playing tricks on his sweaty skin and Louis can see all the strong muscles of his back and arms go taut from the effort to stay still. Louis wants to push but he still feels a bit shitty from his slip-up so he just turns away from Harry. He even rolls closer to the edge of the bed, so he doesn't touch him accidentally.

But neither of them can really fall asleep. Harry's tossing and turning and _whimpering_ behind him, muffled by the pillow but too loud to be unintentional. He wants Louis. Well. He wants Daddy.

Louis hisses and turns to Harry, making sure to appear unimpressed. Miraculously, he maintains that expression even when he sees that Harry's lying flat on his back and his cock is so hard there's pre-come beading at the tip. "Quiet down already, I'm trying to sleep."

Harry only gets louder in response, his hips twitching. He has to bite down on his knuckle to keep the whining in, but even that doesn't work. Louis doesn't know why Harry thought it would—he loves being bitten too much. There's this tiny puddle of pre-come pooling on Harry's abs where his cock is curving, like he's too full up to keep it all in. It's not even been a _day_.

Louis's own cock starts hardening just from seeing Harry so flustered. Time to start. "I _said_ , stop whining, or I'll have to make you."

To his credit, Harry does try. He throws his arm over his face and bites on the inside of his elbow, and it works for a while, but Louis thinks he's well aware of the fact they're both waiting for him to fail. He can see it in the way he's all stretched out and inviting. Maybe Louis's projecting, though. God, he wants to fuck him already.

The only course of action is to pretend to go back to sleep. As expected, barely a minute after he shuts his eyes Harry lets out a soft whine. Louis immediately props up so he's kneeling over Harry with a deep frown. Harry stays incredibly still and looks up at him with huge, guilty eyes. His lips are bitten red when he releases them from between his teeth, and Louis can't stop watching them as Harry starts babbling. "I'm so sorry, Daddy, I _tried_ , I'm just so hard all the time—"

Louis slaps a hand over Harry's mouth and, finally, Harry falls completely silent. Louis looks right into his glassy eyes and presses down, just barely teasing at the possibility of covering his nose as well. Harry's pupils are completely blown and he looks at Louis unblinking for so long his eyes start watering. Louis frowns harder, doesn't want him crying yet. "I told you to stay quiet, didn't I? I told you to get a hold of yourself because I thought you could, Harry. Then I wake up to you _humping_ me like a fucking animal, and you won't even shut up?"

He's being harsh again. Maybe if Harry would stop squirming so much he'd stop pushing him. Still, he deserves a chance. Louis lifts his hand abruptly and shoots Harry a stern look. He's not really sure himself how Harry will play it, but then Harry sort of… goes boneless, melting into the bed with his eyes closed and his mouth firmly shut. Perfect.

"What're we gonna do to keep you nice and quiet, hm?" Louis asks, not really expecting an answer. It's not that he likes the sound of his own voice; he knows the rhetorical questions help Harry stay connected. He comes closer to Harry and then throws a leg over his shoulders so he's straddling his chest. Harry's eyes snap back open and he looks at Louis's body like he's hungry. Louis buries his fingers in Harry's hair and clenches a fist. "Open up."

Harry does, opens _wide_ and lets his tongue loll out, fully anticipating Louis to shove his dick inside. Louis instantly disapproves. He doesn't like it when Harry anticipates; he goes so much deeper when Louis keeps catching him off guard. He gets up on his knees again, and Harry raises his head with bright eyes, but Louis doesn't give him his cock.

Instead, he spins around and plants his arse in front of Harry's face. Harry doesn't make a peep, he's being so good Louis feels all warm with pride. He does grab the sheets so hard they scratch Louis's knees. Louis arches his back and doesn't hear a sigh, but he feels Harry's laboured breaths hit his skin. He looks over his shoulder and sees Harry flushed bright red and, more importantly, with his mouth still hanging open and his tongue out.

Louis keeps supporting himself on one elbow and reaches for Harry behind him. Only when he finds Harry's hand and gets it in a firm grip, does he grind back slowly on his face. At first he just feels Harry's hot breaths on his crack. Since Harry can't use his hands to spread Louis open, he has to actually dig in to get anywhere, and Louis's stomach twists when he feels Harry move his whole face into it, shoving forward with his cheeks and nose to make way for his mouth.

It's something they started doing because Harry wanted to figure out how to give a submissive rimjob, and Louis will never in his life turn down a rimjob. "No hands" for Harry means giving up all the control he has when he's licking Louis out slowly and makes him cry for it. For Louis, it means he has to _focus_. He can fucking lose it when he gets eaten out, but when they're playing, losing it isn't an option. Especially when he's sitting on Harry's face and can actually choke him. That's why he stays slightly elevated, so Harry can always rest his head back on the pillow to take a breath. (Not that he would. Louis doesn't understand how Harry buys it when Louis calls him out on being bad; Harry cannot be anything but a good boy. He was programmed that way, practically made for him.)

When Harry's tongue finally finds his hole Louis bears down and moans, his back curling. Harry starts to happily sweep his tongue back and forth over it without actually fucking inside, but it's hardly unsatisfying. Louis keeps thinking about the fact Harry's getting his cheeks and chin all messy with spit, the fact he's trying so hard to show his daddy a good time. Louis squeezes Harry's hand once and finally Harry strains his tongue forward and licks into him. Louis just. Collapses forward on Harry's thigh.

There's nothing like it. It's heavenly, Harry's tongue is long and flexible and so wet going into him, swirling and jabbing and uncoordinated. He squeezes Harry's hand again and then grinds back finally, feels Harry get deeper, feels Harry's teeth press indentations into the sensitive skin around his hole, feels his lips tighten on him when he tries to suck around his tongue. Louis feels twisted into knots again, knows he's making sounds that probably confuse Harry right now. He feels so _hot_ , and every time Harry's tongue screws into him particularly fiercely it's like an electric current to his cock.

He wants more, needs more friction so as not to give into this helpless feeling of pleasure. He slumps over Harry's body and reaches back with his free hand. He's lucky Harry's devastating height is all legs—it's not a problem to find Harry's head behind him and tug until he's buried even more persistently in his arse. He knows he's cutting off Harry's air, not because Harry squeezes his hand but because Louis can see his cock spurt pre-come right next to his head.

He starts to really ride his face then, hand twisted tight in his hair. He feels _everything_ , from Harry's tongue fucking him deep to Harry's nose bumping into him, and he can't stop thinking about how Harry's going to look afterwards, his whole face wet and red. His beautiful boy, his sunshine boy, doing him so good. He's probably saying it aloud, and it gets Harry excited enough to work even harder, keep his tongue stiff when Louis fucks himself on it.

His eyes flutter open in a daze when he feels Harry actually brush close to his spot. His breath hitches when the first thing he sees is how hard Harry is, his cock flushed so red and dripping. Louis really fucking wants it in his mouth. Harry could take that, couldn't he? Louis's going to shoot off soon enough, he won't have enough time on Harry's cock to make him come. Probably.

The opportunity presents itself soon enough. On a particularly harsh stroke Louis yanks on Harry's hair and bucks his hips back, and he hears it, hears his perfect boy misbehave right when he wanted him to. He hears him moan. Louis yanks on Harry's hair so hard he (moans again and) detaches from Louis's hole, and is left breathing incredibly hard on his arse. "Harry," he hisses, thanking years of practice for keeping his voice demanding and not wanton. "Why are you doing this?"

Harry stays completely quiet, and Louis rolls his eyes even though Harry can't see him. "To keep your big mouth busy. But here you are, still whining." He almost tacks on an endearment, but he thinks it might throw Harry off. They had so many discussions about dirty talk and limits; Louis's practically got it all scripted. When Harry wants him to be disapproving, he can't be affectionate. But _Harry_ doesn't have to pretend to be cross with the person with the sweetest face on the planet, so _Harry_ will just have to forgive him a few _sweetheart_ s and _darling_ s.

Harry's getting desperate, struggling against Louis to get at his arse again and show him how good he can be. Louis lets him. It allows him to _feel_ the vibration of Harry crying out when Louis punishes him by wrapping his lips around his cock. He's incredibly hard and fills his mouth as perfectly as ever, and Louis starts rolling his whole body back and forth, grinding on Harry's face and then taking his cock deeper.

Harry's mad with it. He can't focus enough to fuck into Louis so he ends up just lapping and sucking around him, making everything wet and sensitive and amazing. Every time he goes over his hole Louis's mouth just goes slack, and he takes another inch, practically slobbering over him. Sometimes when they 69 it's like a race of who makes who come first, but this time the odds are drastically skewed. Harry _isn't allowed_ to come.

Harry manages to stay remarkably quiet, probably due to the arse in his face, but Louis doesn't need his voice to know he's dangerously close. Louis pulls off, left panting on him when Harry reacts by sinking his teeth into one cheek. "Want you to make me come now," he says. He hates that his voice is all soft and wavering, but since Harry's the one making him so shaky, he deserves to hear it.

Harry's hands fly to Louis's arse and he spreads his cheeks properly, and finally starts to lick into him in earnest, fast little flicks that make Louis dizzy. "More," Louis orders, and then sinks back down on Harry's cock, taking more the better Harry gives it to him. He lets up only when he feels the familiar heat build low in his gut, and he focuses solely on pushing back against Harry's tongue and chasing the feeling.

He comes hard and moaning on Harry's cock, brain completely blank apart from Harry's tongue still in him. His fist tightens in Harry's hair and he holds his head while he rides his face through it, sweet aftershocks pulsing through him. Harry stays quiet and still and just lets Louis use him, _fuck_ , doesn't that just makes it more intense.

When he's done he can only scoop up whatever's left of his brain to do three things: roll off of Harry; lie down next to him; and open his arms to let Harry cuddle in. They end up with Louis as the big spoon, so he can hold Harry as tightly as he likes and still not touch his cock. He's still so hard, Louis can only stare in astonishment over his shoulder even as he whispers in his ear. "Do you know how good you make me feel? My lovely boy, just perfect for me. I love you so much."

Harry's trembling in his arms but it's not with an edge, it's not his aching need to come. He's just unbearably happy. That's without a doubt the best part about BDSM for Louis. Not the control, not the amazing orgasms, but making Harry shine with _bliss_ when he knows he's been a good boy. Louis wants nothing more than that. He gets him some water and keeps petting him and kissing his hair until Harry passes out, sated and peaceful for now.

*

  
([x](http://37.media.tumblr.com/126611cd9d002396f6a6e46f2adbccb4/tumblr_n6r1igAgEI1qezl1do2_1280.jpg))

Louis has to physically lock his phone in a drawer to keep from asking Harry more questions. There's so much cataloguing to do, but he can't focus on anything. He's been spacey ever since the moment he woke up to Harry's lips around his cock (apologetically). He was late for work, hasn't actually gotten anything done, and now he can't wait to get back home. He needs a new employee like air.

From the way Harry was in the morning, and the unhappy texts he keeps sending him, Louis's gathered that Harry's still in a rather vulnerable state. "Need so much I can't think," Harry whispered in his ear this morning, grinding hard against Louis's new tattoos. "I can't _breathe_."

There's really nothing he can do for him from afar. He keeps sending him little tasks to do around the house, so Harry isn't just climbing the walls. He hopes Harry gets that sense of accomplishment he craves when Louis texts him "good boy". He has no idea if it's even taking the edge off or not. (He kind of hates it, really. He knows it's working for Harry, that he's getting off on the anticipation and being denied, but Louis's always been shit at waiting and not getting what he wants. And being away from Harry. It's kind of. A Problem.)

He breaks when Harry sends him a picture. It's not even a dick pic, it's a selfie of Harry pouting ridiculously and rubbing a jumper of Louis's against his cheek. It's sweet and silly and Louis can definitely finish cataloguing tomorrow. These spreader bars aren't going anywhere. Actually… No, another time. He sends Harry a pouty selfie of his own, rubbing an anal plug against his cheek. It's not as romantic (though it kind of is, since it's the same brand Harry's got in him right now, per Louis's instruction from an hour ago), but Harry sends him back a laughing emoji, so it's something.

When he opens the front door Harry's on him like he's just come home from war. He drops his bag and keys and just wraps his arms around Harry's shoulders, endlessly relieved. Harry's clutching his middle, got his face buried in the crook of Louis's neck and he's breathing him deep. "Daddy," he whispers, so softly Louis might've missed it.

It's amazing to know, how just seeing Louis drags Harry right back into that delicate state of mind. For some reason that relaxes Louis more than anything. Knowing they're going to play right away makes the shitty day Louis’s had more bearable, because when it comes down to it, there's nothing he loves more than taking care of Harry. All the control isn't a heavy responsibility or a burden, it's as freeing for him as it is for Harry. He's at his best when he does it. He thinks ten steps ahead and knows Harry will follow him. That's a powerful thing to have between them. "Sweetheart, did you miss me?"

Harry nods frantically against him and holds him even tighter, bringing their hips flush together and Jesus, if Harry's been packing that all day, no wonder this is Louis's welcome. "A lot. It was awful."

Louis's heart clenches. He just wants to make everything better. Well, he's going to make things a lot worse because Harry's still got four more hours before he can come, but it'll be his kind of worse. The sexy kind. He digs his fingers into Harry's bare shoulder blades. "Let's go to the sofa. Wanna kiss you."

Instead of scampering off, Harry just fits his arms under Louis's arse and picks him up, easy as anything. Louis laughs and wraps his legs around him. Harry bumps into four different objects on the way, but eventually he finds the sofa and collapses on it, Louis sitting comfortably in his lap. He doesn't waste a second, attacks Harry's mouth faster than he can breathe.

Harry slumps into the sofa. He's kissing back eagerly, obviously delighted, but he's just following Louis's lead. Soft when he wants, hot when he wants. He's pliant and giving and wonderful. "You're wonderful," Louis tells him between kisses, nipping gently on his full lips until they're nice and puffy. "Thought about you all day."

Harry mumbles happily to himself and cuddles Louis closer, kissing him deeply. Louis buries his hands in his thick curls and moves his head any which way, kissing him slowly and soothingly. Comforting. Harry's clad only in his black briefs and he's almost feverish to the touch, his breaths coming out ragged on Louis's lips. It takes Harry surprisingly long to grab Louis's arse and try to reel him in against his hard cock. Louis slaps his hands away in response. "Not yet."

Harry makes a wounded sound, like he didn't expect to have to wait even after Louis came home. He drops his hands to his sides in defeat and Louis tries not to laugh. "We need to pace ourselves, love. Let's start on dinner."

Harry frowns but doesn't actually protest, too far gone. Louis isn't inconsiderate. "I could feed you. Would you rather kneel, or maybe I'll sit in your lap?"

"Lap," Harry says quickly. "Don't wanna stop touching. I missed you so much."

Louis isn't supposed to _swoon_ , he should be the mean scruffy daddy type right now, but Harry just brings all this ridiculous fondness out of him at the most inappropriate times. He kisses Harry carefully, gently, a sigh-worthy romance novel kiss. "Missed you too, darling. Let's go."

Harry handles himself really well despite how much Louis's touching him, and Louis keeps touching him for handling himself really well. Harry sits down on the kitchen chair carefully, trying not to show Louis how affected he is by the plug resting inside him. He's still being hopelessly obvious, squirmy and flushed, but Louis decides to play along. "Did you do everything I told you?"

Harry runs his hands over his thighs and ducks his head, probably flustered by Louis bringing up the plug. He wonders how much he's already played with himself. "Yeah, I, um, went out to get the food, and downloaded Game of Thrones, and fucked myself a little, and made plans with Gemma to come see the baby."

Louis smiles broadly and kisses Harry's cheek. "Good boy," he decides, and then goes to fix them up some toasts. He's not even hungry, but it's something to occupy Harry while he figures out his next move. It's kind of counterproductive, though, since Harry gets really intense when Louis feeds him. Sitting on him while he does makes Louis feel that energy being transferred somehow, like all that matters is giving Harry his next bite and letting his sticky fingers linger on his lips.

Eventually he can't take it anymore, tells Harry to carry him to bed and undress him. They're both naked in no time, Louis back in Harry's lap. He's kissing him slowly and playing with the end of the plug, tapping on it, pulling and pushing. He only stops when Harry starts gasping. "Oh god, Lou, I'm close."

Louis arches a brow. "Yeah? Just from this?"

Harry nods, face flaming. "Could come just watching you. Fuck."

He can't help but smile, feeling extremely good with himself. "Let's give you something to watch, then."

"Louis," Harry warns, chest heaving. It's kind of distracting. Louis attaches his mouth to one of his nipples and starts sucking on it, sweeping his tongue over it as it hardens. Harry's hips buck violently under him and Louis snorts a laugh.

"Relax. We'll use the ring, yeah?"

"Oh," Harry says, and Louis's not sure if it's a reaction to what he said or to his hand twisting his other nipple. "The leather one?"

"Sure. You'll tell me if it hurts, won't you, baby?"

Harry nods. "I remember the rules. We take it off if it gets uncomfortable or numb or over thirty minutes."

Louis smiles wide. "That's right, love. Why don't you get it yourself?"

He rolls off of him so Harry can get up and fish through their box. In the meantime Louis searches for the lube they chucked somewhere last night. When they're both back in bed, Louis decides to sit on Harry's thighs instead of between them, so his legs are clenched and the plug's tucked deep in him.

He strokes Harry's cock with lube-slicked hands and then pulls the ring over him, checking for any sort of negative reaction. Harry's face doesn't show anything, so Louis kisses him and then looks down and... feels kind of faint.

The cock ring always makes Harry so _stiff_ , practically pulsing in his hand, and he's covered in lube and Louis's got two fingers inside himself before he even makes the decision to get fucked. Harry probably saw it coming, since he doesn't seem too shocked, just kind of miserable because he knows he'll have to struggle more than ever not to come. Louis leans up to kiss his furrowed brow, spreading himself fast because he wants _on_. "Is it worse than yesterday?"

Harry nods weakly. "Feels… hotter. Couldn't focus on anything. Just stopped trying to."

Louis kisses him again sympathetically. "But you can take it, can't you?" When Harry doesn't answer, Louis corrects himself quickly. "I won't make it easy on you. I'll pin you down and ride you so hard the plug will be the least of your concerns. But you'll take it, because when I come and you don't, you'll be doing _so well_. You'll be so good, show me just how far you can go for me. You want that, don't you? To make me proud?"

Harry whimpers, his hands clamping on Louis's circling hips. "Yeah."

Not good enough. Louis adds a third finger and jerks in Harry's grip. " _Don't you?_ "

"Yes, Daddy," Harry whispers, sounding even more destroyed. Louis shivers and has to draw his fingers out now.

"Good boy." He grabs Harry's shoulders and shoves him down hard, well aware of the fact that every slight motion shifts the plug in him just a bit. He takes Harry's hands and holds his wrists together, stretched over his head. He doesn't want Harry to touch him and distract him.

He kisses him one last time and then props up on his knees, aiming Harry's cock under him. He keeps eye contact with him while teasing himself, rubbing the slick head over his entrance without actually sinking down yet. Harry stays impressively still, doesn't move his hips despite how he's quivering with the need to thrust up into Louis. Louis gives his cock an approving squeeze and then finally bears down.

He shuts his eyes and breathes hard, trying to get used to the pressure of Harry's thick head in him. He starts to wriggle his hips slowly and take more of him in increments. It's probably driving Harry insane, but he's keeping it together like the good boy he is, and Louis tries to focus on that, draw pleasure from Harry's obedience while his body adjusts.

When he reaches far enough he pulls back up instead of down, getting some friction instead of overwhelming pressure. He tightens his hands on his own thighs and starts grinding back and forth, fucking himself on Harry's cock until—" _Oh_ , that's it"—it gets _good_.

He makes it all the way and just rests for a moment on Harry's hips, so full his whole body's tingling. He's just rocking, getting comfortable, but the wait is making him restless. His hands are jittery, fixing his hair and playing with his own nipples and pressing down on Harry's newest ink. Then Harry flashes him this hungry look and Louis's cock perks right up. Okay, he's back in the game.

He clutches his thighs again and smirks at Harry, starting slow. He raises his hips teasingly, just a couple of inches, and then he takes him in deep again, landing hard enough to make Harry jolt. Probably the plug again.

He finds his rhythm soon enough, long, languid movements that rub him just right. Harry makes a pathetic sound but doesn't actually complain, knows this isn't for him. Harry _enjoys_ it, bites his lip and clenches his hands in the sheets. "Like it when I use you to get off?" Louis asks while clenching around Harry and riding him into the mattress, making him toss his head back prettily. "Think you're better than the vibrators I used when you were halfway across the world?"

"Daddy, please," Harry whispers.

Louis bounces on him a couple of times before answering, alarmingly breathless, "Please what?"

"Keep—keep going."

He takes that to mean _keep talking_. So he does. "I'd watch you. Look up pictures and interviews like any one of your preteen fans. But they can't wear your clothes. Use your shampoo so the pillows smell like you again." He's disgusting himself, to be honest. Harry didn't ask for sappy. "I fucked myself so hard, baby, looked at you humping a fucking mic stand and pushed _your_ favourite dildo all up inside me." He's working himself up now, starts to ride Harry faster. His thighs ache but it only makes him clench tighter, sweat more, fall harder on Harry. "It was hard to get off without you, though. Think you can relate?"

Harry definitely can, his whole body trembles just from Louis saying the words "get off". "Yeah Daddy," he chokes out. His hips start to push up a little, but Louis doesn't reprimand him. It's so fucking good, Harry stretching him so open, big and impossibly stiff in him, like the friction will never end.

"Yeah? You wanna come, baby? Wanna fill me up?" He's still breathless to his own ears, not his most authoritative, but it affects Harry all the same, makes him fuck better. He stretches his legs all out for leverage and thrusts up when Louis comes down, making both of them moan. It's answer enough. Louis takes in a huge breath to steady himself, at least enough to say, "Tell Daddy if you're too close, or I won't stop." It's a warning, not an offer or a temptation. Harry wants to make it to the end even more than Louis wants him to.

Louis plants his knees on the bed and lets Harry do more of the work, pump his hips faster and faster until he gets a good enough angle that Louis gasps and sits back, gives back. Oh god, it's even better like this. Louis leans forward over Harry's torso and just swivels his hips, keeps Harry deep and _there_ , brushing his spot with every stuttery jerk. "So good for me," he moans, barely hears his own words with the way his heart's pounding in his ears, rushes of heat coursing through him.

He does hear Harry's broken gasp and tiny, " _Close_."

Louis moves fast, rises on his knees until he's empty again and Harry arches up and _sobs_ , his eyes shiny. To be honest, Louis thought it would happen sooner. He crouches forward and kisses Harry viciously, gives him something real to cling to when he's floating. Harry's still got his hands clasped above his head but it's like his whole body is thrumming under him, trying to cling. "You're so good, baby," he says again, kissing away tears from his temples. "Told me like I asked you to. I'm so proud of you, my precious boy. Couldn't love you any more."

Harry releases another wet whimper and blushes so hard his skin feels hot under Louis's lips. He always does when he cries, gets embarrassed by how overwhelmed he is. It scared Louis the first few times, but by now it's pretty common when they play hard. This is hard. Louis peppers his whole face with kisses before coming up for air, and god, he feels like weeping himself when he sees how gorgeously wrecked his boy looks. He can feel pre-come dripping down his dick. He can't even grasp how Harry's coping.

He moves back and spreads Harry's legs, settling between his thighs. He grabs the lube and spreads it on himself, has to bite his lip to keep from coming right on him. Harry opens his eyes for long enough to see what Louis's doing and he moans and hitches his hips up automatically, then moans _again_ when the plug slides deeper into him. Louis frowns, irrationally upset with the plug for making Harry react like that. Whatever, he's too turned on to be rational. He tugs the plug out none-too-gently and fucks right into Harry, making him _keen_. That's more fucking like it.

He grabs Harry's hips and fucks him as hard as he rode him, short thrusts that make Harry arch and whimper _daddy, daddy, daddy_ like it's the only word he knows. Harry starts clenching around him, maybe even involuntarily, and that's it, Louis's flung over the edge, so hard he _shakes_. He keeps pounding into Harry until he's completely soft, and he just can't close his eyes, can't stop watching how Harry's being pushed up the bed helplessly from the force of his thrusts alone. He's out of it, doesn't whine or cry anymore. Suddenly Louis's afraid he'll come without noticing, so he pulls off the cock ring as quickly but carefully as he can. At least it won't hurt if it happens.

Louis himself pulls out of Harry slowly, fascinated by how Harry keeps squeezing and clenching, how his own come drips out of him. They only stopped using condoms a few months ago, and it's proven itself every day since. He considers plugging him back up, but with how his cock is twitching Louis doesn't want to risk it. They're so fucking close, just an hour to go.

He cleans himself up and leaves Harry dirty, knows he likes it. He comes up next to him and helps moving him until he's lying on his side. Harry's more useless than he's ever been, it's nice. He keeps making soft sounds and clinging to Louis like he'll fall off the face of the Earth if he loses him for one second. Louis won't let that happen. He wraps an arm around Harry's chest and presses his face to Harry's sweaty curls, kissing his nape and nuzzling his ear and whispering sweet words Harry drinks in.

They drift off until precisely 9 PM, when the shrill alarm Louis's forgotten he even set up starts ringing. From the second it stops, it's like Harry turns inside out. " _Daddy_ ," he groans, sounding completely delirious. " _Please please please._ "

Louis's heart swells with pride and he stops cuddling Harry, instead pushing him down on his back and looking at his long, eager body without touching. He'll shower him with praise later. _God_ , he's going to come so hard. "What do you want, baby? Your choice. Reward."

Harry looks up at him with huge helpless eyes and his hips pumping up into air. All right, Louis needs to recalibrate. Harry's in no position to make any decision. "D'you want me to fuck you? Fuck you hard and good, just the way you like."

Harry shakes his head desperately, his knees rising and falling and spreading and closing. “Won't last, won't— _please_ , Lou."

Christ, he's starting to get restless himself. "What if I eat you out, hmm? Get you all clean. Give you some of my come from earlier, would you like that?"

" _Oh_ , I'd—oh god, _Louis-Louis-Louis_ , I—" He trails off in whimpers and thrashes around a little. It suddenly hits Louis what he's trying to tell him. That… well, they could never manage that, but maybe now they could. Seeing Harry so devastated, he's hopeful.

He slithers up, making sure not to touch Harry at all, and presses his mouth to Harry's ear. "You did so well, my beautiful boy. Made Daddy so proud. I want you to come, _now_ , come for me."

Harry _does_. Holy fuck, he just _comes_ without Louis even laying a finger on him. He convulses and cries out and comes and comes and comes, so hard it hits _Louis's_ shoulder, so hard he _blacks out_ for a few scary seconds. It's possible Louis's breath will never slow. It's definite he'll never forget this moment. He's on Harry immediately, wrapping him up tight in his arms and stroking his hair, his back, whispering _baby_ and _come back to me_.

Harry starts reacting after what feels like hours, but is probably seconds. He's sluggish and speechless, but he moves into Louis's soft touches. " _Christ_ ," Louis mumbles, betraying how stunned he is. "That was insane, wasn't it?"

Harry opens and closes his mouth wordlessly for a while, before something comes out. "Best. I never… _Best_ , Daddy."

Louis holds him so close he might be crushing him. There's so much come between them, Jesus. " _You're_ the best. My god, Harry, you just came _on command_. I can't believe how good you are, all for me. How did I get so lucky, hmm? To find the most amazing boy in the world?"

Harry nuzzles into him indulgently, beaming like he's so happy he could burst. Louis can't stop praising him, not when it makes him glow, not when Louis's this blown away by him. "I love you more than I thought anyone _could_ love," he whispers into his hair, closing his eyes. "I'm never letting go of you. We won't even leave this bed. How nice would that be? Shh," he gentles him when he feels Harry getting teary again, sobbing quietly into his chest. "It's okay, baby, I've got you. You're all right."

They'll build up on this. They'll keep practising until the only way Harry _can_ come is with Louis's say-so. They'll roll the dice again.

But right now they tangle in each other like vines and fall asleep peacefully.

* * *

Harry wakes up Saturday morning to the sound of Louis swearing.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Louis says loudly. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.”

Harry rolls over and reaches out for Louis’s side of the bed reflexively, but finds it empty. “Lou?” He sits up and rubs his eyes.

Louis is sitting at the end of the bed, rocking back and forth a little and holding his foot in his hand. “Hi,” he says with a strained voice, looking over his shoulder at Harry. “Hi, good morning, _fuck_.” He winces as Harry blinks slowly, not fully awake yet.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m surprising you with breakfast in bed,” Louis says, gesturing with his elbow to the breakfast tray sitting next to him on the bed as he massages his foot. “Or at least I was before I _broke my toe_.”

“Love.” The surge of affection Harry feels every time he wakes up next to Louis threatens to render him speechless. He shakes his head a little, trying to tame his smile. “Do you think you really broke it or are you just whining?”

Louis doesn’t answer except with a huff as he looks down at his foot and pouts. Harry’s eyes focus on the tray sitting next to him. There’s a banana on a plate, a cup of tea that’s half sloshed into the saucer, and a glass of orange juice that’s already spilled out all over the bottom of the tray. Harry picks up the tray and moves it to the side table, careful not to spill the juice out onto the mattress, then settles down in its place next to Louis, wrapping his arms around him and kissing his shoulder.

“You okay?” he mumbles, tucking his chin over Louis’s shoulder and looking down at where Louis’s cradling his foot.

Louis sighs. “Yeah, it’s—“ Louis shrugs slightly, making Harry’s head bump against his. He keeps massaging his big toe, only wincing a little. Then he shakes himself. “Surprise?” He nods over at the tray on the table. Harry grins into the back of his neck.

“Thought you had work today.” His hands wander down to Louis’s stomach, rucking up his (that is, _Harry’s_ ) shirt a little and splaying out over his waist.

Louis hums. He puts his foot back on the ground and leans back a little into Harry’s embrace. “Took off,” he says as Harry kisses the nape of his neck. “That’s the other surprise.”

“Yaaaaay,” Harry says sleepily, placing little kisses down the slope of his shoulder. “A Louis is my favourite surprise.”

Louis hums as Harry squeezes his arms around his torso. “Thought we could—you know.” Harry makes a questioning sound and kisses the back of his neck again. “Play, if you’re up for it.”

Harry pulls his arms out from around Louis and soothes them over his shoulders. “‘M up,” he says, enjoying the way Louis’s warmth seeps through his shirt to his hands. Louis turns and Harry smiles widely. “Definitely, definitely up.”

“After your gourmet breakfast, of course,” Louis says solemnly, with a nod at the bedside table.

Harry glances back at the ruined tray, at the sad, lonely banana on a plate, and quirks his eyebrows.

“I was gonna make you pancakes,” Louis explains, turning so he can kiss Harry’s cheek, “but then I remembered I love you.”

“You’re so thoughtful, bringing me my breakfast.” Harry sits up on his knees and kisses the top of Louis’s head. “Makes me wanna do something for you, too.”

“Hmm.” Louis closes his eyes while Harry breathes in the scent of his hair deeply. He’s already showered, smells clean and citrusy. “Like what?”

“Like make you pancakes.”

“Thank god.” Louis laughs. He winces a little as he stands, stepping gingerly on his injured toe, then pulls Harry up by the hand. “C’mon, I left my tea in the kitchen.”

If Harry was happy to be home, he’s been in some kind of drug-like haze of ecstasy since he and Louis started playing again. He keeps stopping in the middle of chopping bananas and mixing batter to give Louis dopey kisses all over his face. They had talked rather a lot while Harry was away (enough that Harry’s PA had started making a face every time he overheard _love you, Lou_ ) and fucked rather a lot since he’d been back, but for the two of them, nothing says _I love you_ better or makes them come harder than a really good scene. Here in their kitchen, with the dice rattling around in Louis's hand as he rambles on about the crossword, knowing Louis's going to fuck him up a bit later, Harry already feels way _less_ fucked up than he did while he was away, and way more at home.

After a hearty breakfast (Harry doesn’t like to let his mother’s pancake batter recipe go to waste), a shower, and lingering kisses over cups of tea, Louis pulls out the dice.

“You want to do the honours?” Louis holds out the little pieces of plastic and Harry smiles, taking them into his hand. He hooks his foot around Louis’s under the kitchen table as he rolls the action die.

“Coming,” Louis reads off the die. He frowns a little, then looks down at the instruction sheet and scans over it for a moment. “I’m not sure—ah, here it is.” He smirks and glances up at Harry. "If the action die lands on _coming_ , the number die signifies the number of orgasms the roller has to give their partner, before they can orgasm themselves."

“That’s not so bad.” Harry runs his foot up and down Louis’s leg. “It could be just one.”

“Or it could be six.” Louis takes Harry’s hand in his and kisses it, watching Harry carefully. “I could hide it from you. Keep you guessing. If you wanted.”

“I—“ The other die feels heavy and hot in his hand. Harry weighs it carefully, thinking, then says, “I think I want to know.”

“Okay.” Louis gestures with his hand. “Give it a roll then.”

Harry closes his eyes and shakes the die in his hand for a minute, not sure if he’s rooting for a one or a six. When he lets the die go, he holds his breath, but relaxes a little with the knowledge that it’s out of his hands.

It’s a three. Harry exhales slowly. Three is doable, he knows. He smirks a little to himself. Before he's met Louis, he never would have thought he’d be _relieved_ to hear he would have to bring his boyfriend off three times in one go.

“All right,” Louis says, a little distantly, like he’s planning something in his head. After looking at Harry for a moment, he snaps back into focus. He takes Harry’s hand in his and cocks his head a little to the side.

“What if…” Louis trails off for a minute, looking blankly at Harry’s face.

Harry squeezes his hand. “Yeah?”

“What if instead of making you wait, like last time,” Louis says slowly, “we—make it so you can’t?”

A pang of arousal hits Harry in the gut. “With the cock ring, you mean?”

“Or—“ Louis pauses, looks down at his and Harry’s entwined hands, and strokes the ball of Harry’s hand with his thumb. “Um. We mentioned, once. Milking?”

Harry blinks, then. “ _Oh._ ” God, it’s a good thing Louis gets him, doesn’t question why the idea of Louis milking the come out of his prostate makes Harry’s dick twitch, because Harry doesn’t think he could explain it if he tried. “Yeah, I. I think I like that.”

Louis smiles, a bit of the tension fading from his face. “Thought you might.”

Harry swallows. “Then you could—order me around, maybe,” he says, his voice feeling small. “Like. While I couldn’t—“ Shit, he shouldn’t be getting this turned on just _talking_ about it. He pulls his hand out of Louis’s grip so that he can scoot closer to him, and looks down at their feet as he continues, “So it’d be all about… making you happy.”

Louis puts his arm around Harry’s shoulder, pulling him to his side, and Harry exhales. “When you say ‘order around,’” Louis says slowly, “do you mean…?” He swallows. He’s already half-hard. Harry’s head is already starting to swim. “What do you mean?”

Jesus, he needs to _focus_. “Like…” Harry glances up at Louis’s kind eyes before ducking his face into his shoulder. “You know I like when you don’t make it easy,” he mumbles.

“Okay.” Louis looks like his mind is working a thousand miles an hour. “Okay.” He squeezes Harry’s shoulder. “A milking’s going to have you unable to come for… four hours at _least_ , maybe more like six or seven. Do you think you can handle playing that long, after everything this week?” Harry hums shortly against Louis’s shoulder. “I mean. You know we can always stop, whenever, but do you want me to drag it out so you can try to come at the end? Or just stop after you’ve made me come?”

“I think—I want to try.” Harry looks up and grins at Louis shyly. Louis kisses him quickly. He makes Harry feel like he could try anything in the world. “I can tell you if it’s too much.”

“Or if it’s too—anything.” Louis rests his forehead against Harry’s and his hand on his cheek. “Right?”

Harry nods curtly. “Right.” He closes his lips over Louis’s in a kiss, but Louis pulls back, shuffles away from Harry a little, rubs his temples like he’s concentrating. Like he does when they’re getting ready to play. Harry straightens his shoulders, folds his hands in his lap, and waits.

When Louis looks back at him, his eyes have gone a little harder. “Three times in six hours,” Louis muses. He gives Harry an appraising once-over, making him shiver. “Think you can handle that?”

Harry bites his lip as Louis raises his eyebrow at him. The thought of Louis dragging it out, teasing him again for hours and hours, makes Harry exhausted, but in a good way, like coming back from a run and sinking into a favourite chair. “Y-yeah.” Harry nods. “You—you know I can.”

“A little presumptuous, aren’t you, H?” Louis’s shoulders are stiff, his eyes insistent and hard as they bore into Harry’s. “How do I _know_ you can?”

“I.” Harry blushes and looks down at his hands in his lap. God, Louis _knows_ what it does to him when he acts all… authoritative. Daddy-like. “I did,” Harry says, his voice high-pitched, already feeling like a shell of itself. “I have. Before.”

Louis hums, like he isn’t convinced, and keeps his eyes trained on Harry for a minute while he squirms in his seat, his cock starting to feel heavy against his thigh.

“I need to go to the shop,” Louis says after a moment, standing up. Harry looks up quickly.

“Now?” Harry pouts. Louis’s been half-hard since before they even rolled the dice. Harry had figured he would have him the rest of the way there in two minutes. Louis, though, is picking up his keys from the bedside table. Apparently they’re not going to start right away.

“Need supplies,” Louis says shortly. Harry lets out a _hmmph_ and crosses his legs, settling his chin in his hands and trying to stop his mouth from watering as he watches Louis adjust his trousers.

“You mean the whole inventory of the shop isn't in the box under the bed?” Harry keeps watching Louis’s bulge as his keys jangle in his hand and he sighs.

“ _Harry_.” Harry looks up and Louis looks—not angry, but exasperated. “Do you have to be so—“ He gestures his hand vaguely off to the side and shakes himself in frustration.

 _Jesus_ , they’ve definitely started, then. The tingling in Harry’s spine should have been a clue. He straightens his shoulders and looks down at Louis’s feet apologetically. “Sorry, Daddy,” he mutters.

Louis softens, crossing the space between them and settling both hands on Harry’s head. “It’s all right, sweetheart.” Louis threads his fingers through Harry’s hair and rubs his scalp lightly. Harry hunches forward, presses his cheek against Louis’s warm chest and inhales deeply, smelling fabric softener and Louis’s new musky cologne. “Even the very best boys are naughty sometimes. And you are my best boy, aren’t you?”

“Daddy.” Harry exhales shakily as Louis tugs a little on his hair. “Yeah, I’m.” Louis scratches behind his ear and his eyes flutter shut. “I’m a good boy.”

Louis untangles his fingers from Harry’s hair and starts to move away, but Harry nuzzles against his chest for another moment and Louis stills. “Why don’t you clean yourself up while I’m gone?” he says kindly.

“Did already.” Harry pouts. He can barely remember the last time he showered without tacking on a more _thorough_ cleaning. His hands ache to pull Louis down on top of him, but he hasn’t been given permission to touch. He keeps breathing in Louis’s scent as deep as he can, like a kind of stolen prize.

Louis’s chuckles resonate against Harry’s skull. “Of course you did.” Louis pats his cheek. “Always want to be ready for your daddy.” Harry nods twice, pressing his nose into Louis’s jumper. Louis pulls away and Harry frowns. Louis kisses his forehead. “I’ll text you when I’m ten minutes away,” he says. “Want you naked by the door with your gem plug in when I get back. Okay?”

Louis smiles down at him proudly, and Harry closes his eyes. “Yeah.” He inhales deeply again just at the thought of presenting himself to Louis like that, naked and open and ready to be taken any way Louis wants. “Good.” He can feel Louis smile against his forehead before he kisses him again.

“I love you,” Louis says, in an undertone that hits Harry somewhere even deeper than the place he goes when they’re playing, somewhere buried in his stomach. “You make me very, very happy.” He kisses Harry’s head once more and moves away.

Harry watches Louis check his pockets for his phone and grins dopily. “Love you too.” He straightens his legs and swings them over the side of the bed as Louis heads to the door. “You make me very, very horny.”

Louis snorts. “Idiot.” He glances back over his shoulder when he’s halfway out the door. “Use _lots_ of lube.”

Harry frowns a little—he’d worn a plug almost as many days as he didn’t, while he was away, and he _knows_ how much lube to use. Before he can ask what Louis means, though, he’s out the door.

Unsure of how long Louis will be, Harry takes his time taking his clothes off, folding them into a neat pile on the chair in the corner, and getting the plug out of their box of toys under the bed. It’s not their biggest, by far, but it’s one of his favourites, even though it doesn’t vibrate: four inches of deliciously heavy steel topped off with a pretty pink gem that Louis once spent a whole afternoon photographing at different angles while Harry squirmed and whined through his gag. He plays with it in his hands a little, warming the cold metal, before settling down on his back, spreading his legs, and lubing up his fingers.

There’s this tension that knots in Harry’s stomach, sometimes, when he goes dizzy with all the love he has for Louis, so overwhelmed he’s not sure how to express it. Slipping into the role of Louis’s good boy is the only proven way Harry knows to make that tension dissipate, at least for a while. It makes them closer than ever, which is exactly what Harry needs after feeling so far away from Louis he wasn’t sure he was himself, anymore.

He lets himself just play with his puckered hole for a few minutes, slick fingers dancing over the rim, pushing in and out only slightly. On tour, Harry hadn’t had a lot of time to enjoy the feeling of tight wet heat around his fingertips, the maddening press of not-quite-enough inside him. Especially with how most of his free time (and a fair portion of his working time) had been spent teasing himself per Louis’s texted instructions. Louis doesn’t plan to leave Harry alone long now, either, because after no time at all he’s texting to tell Harry to be ready.

It always makes Harry’s brain go a little haywire, when Louis gives him a task to do—he gets loopy so easily, making it hard to focus on anything but what Louis asks of him. He doesn’t even try to find his spot as he plunges his fingers into himself quickly. _This isn’t about you_ , he tells himself—only it’s Louis’s voice in his head (isn’t it always), and Harry finds himself nodding fervently into the sheets as he fucks himself open roughly—yes, no, it’s all for him, for Louis, for _Daddy_. Harry doesn’t touch his cock even after he slips the plug inside him, barely even _wants_ to, unless Louis says.

He dabs some more lube around his opening, as an afterthought, and even though he’s used to the feeling of the plug in him by now, the way it _slides_ against him as he goes to the foyer makes his face go hot and his nipples perk up. He settles on his knees by the door, looking straight ahead with his shoulders pushed back, and just hopes that the sight of Louis standing over him won’t make him clench so hard that the plug will shoot out of his slippery hole. Harry doesn't much mind being embarrassed, as a matter of course, but that's one thing he doesn't feel the need to experience again.

Then again, Harry thinks, maybe that’s what Louis wants. _God_. He thinks of Louis smirking in satisfaction while Harry makes a mess of himself at his feet, and part of his brain switches off, the articulate part, the part that knows how to say thing other than _yes_ and _please_ and _Daddy, yes_. Harry shifts on his knees as his cock twitches against his belly, and keeps his eyes trained on the door.

Louis comes home a few minutes later, with a long, thin package under his arm and a plastic bag in his hand. He doesn’t even look at Harry at first, distracted by trying not to drop the package as he shuts the door with his hip. Harry knows he’s already fully sunk into his role by the way a shiver runs down his spine when Louis’s eyes meet his, and he feels simultaneously like he should and he _can’t_ look away while Louis’s eyes rake over his body critically. He clasps his hands more tightly behind his back and purses his lips.

“Good,” Louis says, almost absent-mindedly, after he drags his eyes away from Harry. He sets down his keys and jerks his head towards the living room. “Come.”

Harry puts his palms on the ground and starts to push himself to his feet.

Louis makes a displeased sound. “Did I tell you to get up?”

Harry freezes. “N-no.” He shifts his weight onto his hands and stares down at them in mortification, not sure he could stand to see the disappointed look on Louis’s face. It gets him off like _nothing_ else, when Louis is cross with him. Everything feels ten times more intense when he knows _good boy_ isn't just an empty phrase. That it's something he _earned_ , that he had to _work_ for. It's almost too much to handle, how badly he wants that—he's had to _beg_ Louis to be cruel to him like that while they’re playing, in the past—god, he wants it so much that he can't even look Louis in the eye while Louis gives it to him, or he might cry.

“What do you say?” Louis prompts.

Harry’s heart feels like it might actually pump out of his body. “Sorry, Daddy,” he says to the floor, and Louis hums, then turns towards the living room again.

Harry crawls a few paces behind Louis, keeping his head down as the rough carpet rubs against his hands and knees. The heat feels _good_ , like a penance, like making his daddy happy. Harry’s cock grows harder as it bounces against his thighs. Louis places the package and the bag on the sofa, then turns to Harry, sitting back on his haunches with his hands folded in his lap.

Louis leaves the room again and Harry stays perfectly still, closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing. When Louis comes back, he has—Harry’s breath catches in his throat—Harry’s _collar_ in hand, the simple black collar with the little silver buckle that Louis had bought for him for their first anniversary.

“Are you going to be good for me?” Louis rolls the collar over in his hands a few times while Harry nods, opening his mouth to speak only to find no words.

Louis hums shortly, then leans down and fastens the collar around Harry’s throat. As he pulls the leather through the buckle, even though he’s sure to leave it plenty loose, Harry feels like he can’t breathe.

“Arse up,” Louis says, taking a step back, his eyes fixed on the collar around Harry’s neck, “legs spread.”

Harry turns quickly so his pretty bejewelled arse is facing Louis, then presses his chest to the ground and opens his legs as widely as he can, arms over his head, anchoring him. He closes his eyes and tries not to let the carpet tickle his nose as he hears Louis get something out of the bag behind him.

“Is that as far as you can spread?” Louis asks, annoyed. Harry whimpers and tries to splay himself out wider for Louis.

Louis doesn’t say a thing, but the way he strokes over the plug poking out of Harry feels fond. Harry’s back arches, involuntarily, and he gasps as his spine twinges in pain, but Louis hums his approval as Harry’s arse is thrust up higher and that’s the only thing that matters to him. Harry is more than fully hard by now, but already so, _so_ satisfied.

Harry bites back a sound as Louis fastens leather cuffs around his ankles. _Jesus_. He’s never had his ankles chained before—Louis’s always said he prefers him with his legs spread—but as he feels Louis attach him to something that isn’t his other ankle, he realises with a start that maybe they don’t have to choose between those things.

“Hands between your legs,” Louis says, and as Harry moves to comply, he can’t keep himself from shifting his legs and moaning as he finds he can’t close them a centimetre more. His whole body spasms when he pushes his hands down between his legs far enough to run into the metal bar that’s keeping his legs splayed open. _God_. That’s—a spreader bar. _That’s_ notsomething they keep under their bed. Harry moans a little at the thought of Louis handling these at the shop and thinking of Harry spread out like this in front of him, and tries to stick up his arse even farther, but it’s awkward, with his legs spread open so wantonly—his chest is mashed against the carpet and his back is at an odd angle, his neck strained while he keeps reaching down as far as he can with his hands, turning his face into the carpet while his legs start to ache _already._

Louis hums in approval, fastens more soft leather cuffs around Harry’s wrist, then chains them around the bar. Harry feels more exposed than he maybe _ever_ has, hopelessly bound with his arse and his hard, dangling cock on display, but Louis pets at his hips kindly and that’s everything, isn’t it? Blood rushes to his head as he strives to keep his position. Pleasing Louis is everything _._ He wishes he could look over his shoulder to catch Louis’s eye, but he can’t bend that way, like this, and really, that just feels _right_ , being denied, if it’s what Louis wants. He whimpers as Louis pulls the jewelled plug out of his arse, exposing the very last inch of him.

“Good thing we kept you up on your yoga while you were away, hmm?” Louis says. His finger dips inside Harry easily and Harry shakes in his restraints, tries to make himself a little more comfortable reflexively, but he _can’t_. “Kept you all bendy and ready for it.”

“ _Ready_ ,” Harry repeats. Louis’s crooking his fingers inside him without preamble, searching for his spot, and Harry latches onto the word even as he can’t stop his body from shaking. “Ready, Daddy, ready.” He cries out when Louis presses two hard fingers against his prostate, trying to curl in on himself but only managing to thrust shallowly back against Louis.

“Relax,” Louis says, his voice a little softer than before as he pats Harry’s arse gently with the hand that isn’t inside him, rubbing gentle but _insistent_ circles around his prostate. “Just need to make sure you aren’t going to come before you finish being good for me.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Harry chokes as Louis teases his balls with his fingertips, “oh god.” The pressure against his prostate is _incredible_ , and he pumps his hips forward almost involuntarily, gasping as his cock grazes against his stomach and he fucks back onto Louis’s fingers, making himself full full _full_.

“ _Harry_ ,” Louis warns. He pulls his hand away from Harry’s balls and Harry very nearly starts to cry into the carpet, fucking back onto Louis harder until Louis slaps his arse soundly.

“Already know you’re a slut for it,” Louis says, “need you to focus.”

Harry swallows. His knees might collapse, they’re shaking so bad, except they _can’t_. “S-sorry Daddy.” He groans as Louis returns to his relentless circles around his prostate. “Feels—feels _so_ good.” He shakes harder than ever with the effort not to buck his hips as Louis runs his knuckle up and down his hard shaft.

“I’ll bet it does.” Louis takes the head of Harry’s cock between his fingers for a moment and Harry throws his head back with a choked-off moan as he quickly moves away, going back to stroking his balls. “Nothing gets you off like being good for me.”

“Yes,” Harry says, his voice straining as he tries not to _sob_ , “yes, _yes,_ good, ‘m good, _please._ ”

“But this isn’t about you getting off, is it, Harry?” Louis rolls Harry’s balls in his hand, scratches them impossibly lightly, and it’s so much, Harry’s so _full_ , he bites his tongue so hard he almost screams. “It’s about _you_ getting _me_ off.”

“ _Daddy_ ,” Harry gasps, he’s so _close_ , he’s never felt so close so fast so _full_ in his _life_ , just from the circling of Louis’s fingers and his teasing hand darting light touches up and down his rock-hard cock, dragging little drops of pre-come down the side of his shaft. “Daddy, gonna—“

“No, you’re not,” Louis says sternly, but at the same time he gives Harry’s cock a harsh, perfect tug and that’s—Harry’s so—he’s gripping wildly at the bar holding his legs open for Louis just for something to hold, shaking so hard he thinks his bones might snap. Louis pulls away, doesn’t touch him anymore except hard against his spot.

“ _Please_ ,” Harry begs, throat already feeling sore and spent as he blinks away tears, “it’s too, Daddy _, Daddy,_ I’m—“

“ _Don’t_ ,” Harry hears Louis say over the rush in his ears, but it’s too late, Harry’s spasming out of control, shooting come onto the carpet even as he sobs for Louis’s hand on him again, spurt after spurt of it pouring out of him while Louis keeps the pressure up on his prostate, like he's _pushing_ it out of Harry. Harry couldn't stop coming or crying to save his _life_.

It’s probably the most unsatisfying orgasm Harry’s ever had—they’d talked about milking, before, how Louis could literally drain the ability to orgasm out of him, and he’d _liked_ that, the feeling of being so thoroughly denied, but this feels less like denial and more like something has been yanked out of his gut, leaving him breathless and overstimulated and on edge. The second it’s over, the second Harry feels like the slightest touch on his cock would be torture, Louis tugs it, slowly, making a few more drops of come dribble out of Harry and onto the carpet. Harry’s chest heaves against the floor as Louis pulls his fingers out of his arse and doesn’t touch him. Harry feels _ruined_.

“Couldn’t stop yourself, could you?” Harry can hear Louis wiping his hand on the carpet but he can’t see Louis’s face and it’s so, _so_ much worse than any disappointment he might find there, just the cold knowledge in his gut that he came when Louis told him not to.

“Daddy,” Harry whines, sniffling against the floor, “I’m—I’m _sorry_ , Daddy, sorry, oh god, I—“

“Always making it about you.” Louis gives Harry’s arse a backhanded slap and he rocks forward, crying, overwhelmed and undone.

“N-no,” Harry stutters. He tries to shake his head but probably just gets rug burn all over his cheek. It hurts, a little, but _god_ , he deserves it, he was so _bad,_ he needs to make it up to Louis, he _has_ to. “No, no no _please_ I’m sorry let me, let me—“

Harry struggles a little in his restraints. Louis sighs.

“You were supposed to make me come three times,” he says, “and now you’ve come once and I’ve not at all. What am I supposed to do with you?”

“Fuck me.” Harry moves to spread his legs but there’s literally no farther he can go, no more he can open himself up for his daddy, and that makes him frantic. “Please, p- _please,_ I’ll be, please I’m good I’ll be so good I’m _sorry_.”

“After what just happened, you expect me to do all the work?” Louis’s voice sounds so far away, it feels like _ages_ since Harry’s seen his face, and that makes him keen and cry a little more but he deserves it, he deserves this, he was _bad_.

“N-no,” Harry whimpers. He swallows several times, wiping his tears off onto the carpet. “I can. I can suck you.”

Louis hums. Harry opens his mouth to beg but no words come out, he just slumps onto the carpet and shakes a little with his cries. After a minute, he feels a tug on the chain between his hands.

Harry stays still until Louis says, “All fours.” He rolls his shoulders a little and brings his hands out from between his legs, wincing as he brushes over the puddle of his come on the floor beneath him. He straightens up and looks straight ahead, desperate to see his daddy but even more desperate not to misbehave again.

Louis tugs him onto his knees by his hair and Harry doesn’t even whimper, just shakes a little and tries to keep himself from saying _sorry_ again. He still keeps his eyes straight ahead, towards the empty blue wall, as Louis pulls him backwards, so that he has to shuffle back on his knees (an awkward feat, with the bar still spreading him open).

Once he’s backed up almost into the sofa, Louis releases his grip on Harry’s hair and pushes him down lightly.

“Lick it up.”

 _Yes, Daddy_ , Harry thinks but doesn’t say, too certain he’ll start to cry again if he tries to speak. He bends down and shivers as the smell of his body’s betrayal washes over him. He licks out tentatively at the individual spots dotting the forest green carpet, first, then closes his lips around the milky puddle of his spunk. There's so _much_ of it. Harry may have been bad by orgasming, but with everything Louis managed to milk out of him anyway, he knows he won't be coming again anytime soon, and that's the only thing helping him keep it together even a little bit, knowing that he's getting what he deserves. He slurps the bitterness into his mouth while his arse clenches because of everything it means.

Louis doesn’t say anything, while he’s bent over, just pushes the plug back inside him roughly. When Harry’s licked up as much as he can, he stills. He hears Louis sit down behind him.

“You can suck me off now,” Louis says, almost indifferent.

Harry doesn’t need telling twice. He stumbles over the bar as he rushes to crawl between Louis’s legs. Louis’s still fully clothed in his jeans and t-shirt, so Harry has time to start up a chant of _sorry, Daddy, sorry sorry I’m sorry_ while he undoes Louis’s zipper and mouths at the tip of Louis’s full, thick cock through his jeans while Louis lifts his hips just enough for Harry to slide his jeans and pants down over them. Harry sighs with relief when Louis’s cock bobs up, red and hard, into his face. He immediately licks a long stripe up the shaft and inhales the  musky scent of Louis greedily. This is something he knows he can do right for his daddy.

“Hands behind your back,” Louis says gruffly, still sounding far away even though he’s right in front of Harry now, and Harry whines a little as he complies, looking up at Louis for approval with his lips parted against the tip of his cock, already starting to leak a little.

Louis doesn’t thread his fingers through Harry’s hair, like usual, doesn’t whisper how good he is. Instead, his arms are spread out over the tops of the sofa cushions, and—and he turns on the telly.

The sound of football fans jeering overwhelms Harry for a moment, and he mouths at the head of Louis’s cock like it’s a question, blinking rapidly as he searches Louis’s impassive face for some expression.

Louis watches the telly for a few moments, turning up the volume, before glancing down at Harry between his legs. “Thought you’d know your way around a cock by now,” he says, only the deepness of his voice betraying that he’s affected by Harry between his legs at _all_.

Harry swallows and nods quickly. “Yes, Daddy,” he says in a small voice. He licks up the shaft a few times, sloppily, getting it wet, before tacking on another _sorry_ and filling himself up with Louis.

It’s odd enough, these days, for Harry to take Louis’s cock at his own pace, without Louis pushing his head down into his groin, fucking up into his mouth deliciously hard and always just skirting the edge of too much, but now—Harry’s staring up at Louis while the tip of his cock starts to graze the back of Harry’s throat, blinking through his tears carefully, just like Louis trained him to do, saying _love to see you when you’re stuffed full of my cock_ , but Louis is barely even paying _attention_ to Harry now, his eyes fixed on the television screen in a slight frown. Louis isn’t making a sound, but hundreds of footie fans are groaning as Harry swallows around Louis’s cock and then bobs his head down, retaking Louis again quickly, keeping the suction of his lips around his shaft tight. Louis didn’t mention anything about a match today, Harry _knows_ it’s nothing important, and it’s driving him mad to be so close to being so good without being quite _enough_ , so he squeezes his eyes shut and redoubles his efforts, fucking Louis’s cock into his throat roughly, sputtering but not coming up for air, breathing hard and swallowing around him with his head nestled against his groin, until finally, _finally_ , Louis starts to thrust back shallowly. Harry very nearly hyperventilates, tears springing into his eyes anew as he tries to push himself down farther, whimpering around Louis’s cock while his arse clenches hard around his plug.

After a particularly hard swallow, Louis’s hand comes down hard on the back of Harry’s head and Harry moans loudly, bobbing his head so Louis’s cock fucks down his throat, but Louis doesn’t push him down any farther—instead, he pulls Harry off his cock roughly, by his hair, in time to come all over Harry’s flushed cheeks and his wet, trembling lips.

The footie crowd erupts in cheers. Louis keeps looking down at Harry, thumbing at his cheek while Harry licks the come off his lips greedily, panting. “Look good with come on your face.” It’s the closest thing to praise he’s gotten in what feels like ages, and Harry absolutely preens.

“Daddy,” Harry nuzzles against Louis’s hand and smiles at the roughness with which the word works its way out of his fucked-out throat. “Let me—again, wanna please you again.” He tightens the clasp of his hands behind his back and leans down, rubbing his face along the side of Louis’s wet, softening cock.

Louis pushes him away. Harry gapes, biting his come-salty lip into his mouth, and almost starts crying again as he takes in Louis’s impassive expression.

Louis doesn’t sound angry when he speaks again, though. “Need a break, love.” He pushes his jeans and briefs down the rest of the way off his thighs and kicks them off his feet, leaving them puddled by Harry’s knees. “If I untie you, will you get me a beer?”

Harry blinks in confusion, glancing between Louis’s face and his trousers. “I—“

Once again, a chorus of groans from the telly. Louis glances up at the screen, frowns, then looks back down at Harry. “Let me put it another way,” he says. “I’d like very much for you to get me a beer.” Louis settles deeper into the couch, kicks Harry’s thigh lightly. “Kneel by my side while I catch up on some things, be a good boy. Can you manage that?”

“I can,” Harry says quickly, nodding fervently before he even really understands what Louis’s saying. “Whatever you want.”

“Turn around, then.”

Harry stumbles over again as he tries to turn, presenting his arse to Louis as he positions the cuffs on his feet closer to Louis. Louis undoes the hooks connecting the leather straps to the bar between Harry’s legs, but leaves the straps on. Harry flushes a little as he realises he’s got leather cuffs on all his wrists and ankles, around his _throat_ , like he’s ready for Louis to chain him up in any position at any time. And he _is_ , he is ready, but—that’s not what Louis wants, right now.

What he wants is for Harry to get him a beer.

Harry stays still for a minute after Louis unchains him, not _really_ sure what he’s supposed to do next. After a long moment, Louis lets out a humph and presses the jewelled end of the butt plug hard, startling a yelp out of Harry as it brushes against his still-oversensitive prostate.

“No need to crawl,” Louis says, withdrawing his hand and bumping the back of Harry’s thigh with the side of his foot. “As I’d rather you didn’t try to carry it on your head.”

Harry nods, feeling dazed. He almost falls over while getting to his feet, his legs sore and overworked from the bar. It feels— _wrong,_ standing over Louis sprawled out half-naked on the couch while Harry’s still wearing his come on his chin, so he moves quickly to the kitchen. He stares at the fridge for a long moment before opening it, pulling out one of Louis’s favourite beers, and turning back around to head into the living room.

Louis’s lost his shirt by the time Harry comes back. He’s got one leg crossed over the other, his cock hanging limp and apparently uninterested between his thighs as Harry gets back down on his knees in front of him, offering the beer up awkwardly with two hands while he bites his lip and looks down at his knees.

Louis pulls his gaze away from the telly long enough to regard the beer in Harry’s hand, then shakes his head slightly. Harry’s stomach turns in circles.

“Open it,” Louis says, looking back at the telly.

Harry’s hands shake as he opens the can, so badly he almost drops it. _God_ , his face must be beet-red by now with embarrassment. Louis’s given him so many chances to be good for him, _easy_ things, but Harry keeps messing up.

He’s not discouraged, though. If anything, he’s more determined than ever to show Louis that he can be good for him, that he deserves him. When he presents the opened can to Louis, he’s sure to position it so Louis can pick it up and sip without having to turn it.

That’s exactly what Louis does. He doesn’t look down at Harry, instead picking up the remote and flipping the channel. “Thanks, pet,” he says, just before he sips again.

Harry kneels at his feet, his breath picking up. Louis flips through a few more channels without giving Harry any more instructions. Harry doesn’t turn, doesn’t care what’s on the screen, can’t focus on anything but Louis’s hands, wrapped around the beer can, his perfect, silent lips framed with scruff.

After a while, Louis sets down the remote, apparently satisfied with the channel he’s found. Harry swallows.

“Can I—can I do anything?” he asks. He shifts his knees slightly and feels the plug shift inside him, reminding him of the edge Louis brought him to and shoved him over, the hopeless arousal settled in his gut. He hasn’t been hard since he came, and somehow that’s what he’s most ashamed of as Louis turns to take in the sight of him at his feet. Louis should know how much Harry loves to please him. Harry _always_ wants him to know. He bites his lip.

“Can you do anything,” Louis muses. “Well.” He takes a sip of his beer. “Could use a place to rest my feet.”

Harry nods quickly, getting on all fours again and offering up his back to Louis as if he’s done it a thousand times before, or—or like he’s been waiting for this forever, like nothing could ever be more natural than contorting his body into whatever Louis needs, whatever Louis wants him to be. Harry practically sighs in relief as Louis’s heels settle against his spine, the pressure of his feet and the perfect submissionof Harry’s stance feeling like he’s found home in the midst of slightly unfamiliar territory.

Harry rests his chin against his chest and closes his eyes. “Thank you,” he mumbles, almost to himself.

Louis seems to hear him, though. “Hmm?” He lowers the volume on the telly for a moment. “What was that?”

Harry blinks his eyes open, the green carpet seeming to swim in front of him as Louis strokes his spine with his heel. He struggles to remember what he’d said for a moment, then clears his throat. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Louis hums noncommittally, but rubs his heel in little circles on the small of Harry’s back for a moment. Harry closes his eyes again with a contented hum and lets himself sink into the feeling of being useful, being used.

After a while, when Harry’s knees are starting to ache a little, Louis settles the beer can on his shoulder blade. It’s still nearly full, and sweating cool drops of water that quickly fall onto Harry’s back. Harry trembles, partly at the sensation, but mostly at the _trust_ , and does his very, very best to stay completely still, so as not to tip the can. Not very long afterwards, Louis picks the beer up again and takes his feet off Harry’s back.

“Up,” he says.

It takes a minute for Harry to blink out of his fuzzy headspace enough to process the command, but when he does, he’s scrambling up onto his knees again, shivering as cold condensation from the beer can drips down his back.

Louis’s expression is hungry as takes in the sight of Harry at his feet, more obviously full of desire than at any point since they’d started playing. He licks his lips and parts his legs slightly. His cock is already curved hard against his stomach, and that makes Harry so deliriously happyhe could cry, might already be crying, who _knows_ , all that matters is that he’s done well, that Louis _wants_ him, in spite of his earlier missteps.

Louis pats his thigh. “Up,” he says again, and this time Harry doesn’t hesitate a moment before crawling into his lap, straddling Louis’s thighs and settling his hands against his own thighs as he stares at Louis wide-eyed, waiting for his instruction.

Louis stares back at Harry for a long moment in something like amazement as he gropes his arse. Harry may never have been happier in his life.

After a minute, Louis closes his eyes and shakes his head a little. His hand stops massaging Harry’s arse and goes straight to his hole, pulling out the plug in one long, slow motion. Harry shivers as his rim stretches around the widest part of the toy, but otherwise stays still as Louis quickly replaces the plug with three of his own fingers.

“Still so wet.” Louis plunges his three fingers deep into Harry quickly, scissoring them, making Harry’s mouth drop open in a silent moan at the delicious stretch. Too soon, Louis pulls out, and Harry can’t help a small whimper. “Do you need more lube to ride me?”

Harry clenches and feels some slick lube dripping out of his hole. He shakes his head.

“Well,” Louis says, his voice returning to its previous airy, disinterested state, “let me know.” Louis places the plug on the side table and spreads his arms out over the back of the couch. Harry bites his lip and waits for further instruction. Louis just raises his eyebrow.

“Go on.” Louis looks down at his cock and raises his eyebrows at Harry. “Your turn to do the work, remember?”

Harry nods quickly. “S-sorry, Daddy.”

Louis doesn’t say anything as Harry leans forward, balancing himself with one hand on the sofa above Louis’s shoulder, and with the other hand takes Louis’s cock, slick with his spit, and positions it over his hole, whimpering a little as the head rubs at his entrance. Harry moans as he breaches himself with Louis’s cock, squeezing his eyes shut while he fills himself up with it slowly, inch by inch, guiding it with one hand until Louis is almost all the way in him. As he gets closer to the base, Harry pauses to fuck back and forth a little, his hole stretching and burning, but feeling so, _so_ good, even in the absence of Louis’s usual whispered encouragements in his ear.

Louis is silent the whole time, but finally grunts as Harry settles against his hips and clenches. Harry throws his head back and parts his lips in a sigh. Not even Louis’s thick cock inside him feels as good as making Louis happy. His whole head goes entirely fuzzy with it, the absolute satisfaction of knowing he’s taking Louis into him in every way he can. He’s vaguely aware of himself grinning dopily as Louis squeezes his arse.

The illusion is shattered when Louis speaks.

“Trying to watch a programme here,” he says gruffly, jutting his chin into Harry’s shoulder. “Could you budge up?”

Harry’s eyes flash open. Louis’s looking at him in pointed dismay, and Harry’s breath catches in his throat. Louis thrusts up into him shallowly as he bumps his chin against Harry’s shoulder again, and Harry’s whole world is spinning. He wasn’t good. “S-sorry, Daddy,” he manages to choke out again, stuttering partly with pleasure but mostly with _guilt_ at feeling pleasure when he’s not doing what Louis wants. Harry wants, wants _so much_ to be good, so he hunches his shoulders and ducks his head down to Louis’s neck, so that Louis’s chin is just over his shoulder. He pauses, not sure if he’s done well, but when Louis puts a reassuring hand on the small of his back, he whimpers quietly and starts to focus again on the cock splitting him open.

Harry moves his hips in little fits and starts. It’s hard to move at this angle without Louis popping out of him or blocking his view of the telly—let alone hit a good angle for himself—but this isn’t about him, wouldn’t be, even if every brush against his overstimulated prostate didn’t feel like he was being thrown against a brick wall. Nevertheless, even limp and overstimulated, Harry can’t stop himself from letting out a guttural moan as Louis snaps his hips up to meet Harry’s thrusts, as if by instinct, pushing Harry to fuck Louis into his arse faster, harder, while he pants against Louis’s golden, perfect shoulder.

“You’re so _loud_.” Harry’s spine shivers as Louis speaks against his neck, but that’s wrong, too, because Louis is _annoyed_ with him, and he’s _enjoying_ himself.

“Sorry,” Harry squeaks. He can’t even focus enough to berate himself, though. He feels every inch of Louis acutely—Louis’s thick, strong thighs underneath him, Louis’s warm, hard torso pressed against his, Louis’s perfect cock splitting him in half. Harry doesn’t deserve it, any of it, he could _never_ be good enough for that, in any universe, but Louis gives it all to him anyway, and it’s all Harry can do to circle his hips while Louis’s all the way inside him and try not to disturb his programme.

Harry can tell Louis is close by the way his breath goes a little shallow and his hand settles on Harry’s arse, squeezing one of his cheeks in time with Harry’s thrusts. Then he’s pulling out of Harry entirely, making him whimper, and coming in warm pulses all over Harry’s hole.

Being denied Louis’s come inside him physically _hurts_ Harry, makes his shoulders shake and his breath come out in hysterical pants. Whether Louis notices that, or whether it was his plan all along to push some of his come inside Harry with his fingers before pushing the plug back into him, Harry doesn’t know, but either way, when Louis holds up his fingers for Harry to suck, he’s so grateful for the taste of Louis’s come he lets out another loud, low moan.

“That was great, babe.” Louis pulls his fingers out of Harry’s mouth and pats him on the arse, like they’ve just finished a round of footie or something. Harry licks his lips and buries his face in the dip of Louis’s collarbone, taking advantage of Louis’s momentary generosity to soak in as much of him as possible. “Why don’t you go make us some food, now? Bit peckish.”

“Yes,” Harry mutters against Louis’s skin, even though he’s not sure he can focus his eyes, currently, let alone boil water. “Yes, Daddy, anything.”

“Two sandwiches.” Louis scoots up, sending Harry a little off balance, so that he straightens up in his lap. Harry bites down a whimper as he clenches around the plug. It’s nowhere near as good as Louis inside him, but it is _keeping_ Louis inside him, even as he elbows Harry out of the way so he can see the telly again. “Whatever you feel like making, I don’t care.”

Harry frowns. “I—“ What goes in sandwiches? Bread?

Louis seems to notice Harry’s stricken expression, even as he’s shaking Harry out of his lap. “Cheese on toast is fine. In the press, don’t use the stove.”

Harry takes a minute to process those words, sitting askance next to Louis on the couch. Then he nods. “I can,” he says, voice small, but confident. “Anything, I can.”

Louis hums, then turns up the volume on the telly. Someone is reporting on… something. Somewhere in the world. Harry doesn’t care. He trudges into the kitchen, one hand trailing down to poke at his plug, the wetness of his thighs. He shivers, but doesn’t move to clean himself, just stares at the cupboards for a while in a daze before remembering they keep cheese in the _fridge_. He’s got this, totally. He’s good.

Louis comes into the kitchen just after Harry puts the first sandwich in the press. He puts his arms around Harry’s waist before Harry’s even registered he’s there, and he releases his grip on the sandwich press in shock, stepping back into Louis’s warm, naked body and melting faster than the cheese.

Louis presses down on the sandwich press without pulling his arms from around Harry and Harry pushes his arse up against Louis, but Louis just chuckles into his ear. “You want to eat now?” Harry can feel Louis’s words against his neck, resonating through his torso. “Or after?”

Harry’s forgotten what he was doing, too distracted by the feeling of Louis wrapped around him. “I—“ He frowns as he looks down at Louis’s hand on the sandwich press. “What do you want?”

“I want you to eat.” Louis nips at Harry’s ear, and Harry moans openly, baring his neck for him. Louis kisses it briefly. “But not if you’re gonna be sick on the carpet.”

Harry blushes, remembering how he’d nearly been sick all over himself the last time they played before tour, after Louis fed him two dozen cherries. “After,” he mumbles.

“Okay, babe.” Louis nuzzles against his neck and Harry’s just. It’s just everything Harry wants in the _whole world_. “You can keep my cock warm while I eat, then.”

“Yes.” Harry sighs as Louis splays a hand out over his stomach, playing with the fine hairs there. “Y-yes.” Louis kisses his cheek and Harry whimpers, _Daddy_.

Louis exhales heavily against Harry’s neck. “You’re so…” Louis trails off and squeezes his hip. Harry moans and tries to step back farther into his touch, but the timer on the sandwich press goes off and Louis steps back suddenly. Harry blinks, then sighs.

“Lovely,” Louis mutters after a long pause, in an undertone. Then he clears his throat and continues, louder, “Why don’t you let me do the cutting and then I’ll let you bring me my plate at the table?”

Harry frowns. “Daddy…” His eyes flit over to the knives on the counter. “Daddy, I can.”

“I know, baby.” Louis sounds—amused, more than anything, and Harry pouts because he doesn’t understand what’s so funny. “You’re so perfect for me. But let Daddy take care of this one, all right?”

Louis takes the sandwich out of the press and puts it on the plate Harry had arrange next to it, then cuts it along the diagonal, like Harry usually does for him. Harry’s hands twitch. Louis puts the knife in the sink and brushes his fingers over Harry’s hip before he goes out to the dining room. Harry glances at the uncooked sandwich as he picks up Louis’s and feels a twinge of disappointment in himself, for not finishing what Louis told him, but. Louis told him to do this now. _Louis_. Harry’s hands shake as he carries the plate out to where Louis is sitting with his hands folded in his lap at the dining room table. They don’t stop shaking until he sinks to his knees.

Louis takes a bite of the toast and chews carefully for a minute, looking thoughtful. Harry makes a strangled noise in his throat at the thought of Louis being displeased with it. After a moment, though, Louis smiles.

“Good boy.” Louis scratches behind Harry’s ear and he preens, another wave of hazy arousal settling over him. “Can have my cock now, as long as you promise not to suck.”

“I won’t,” Harry promises quickly as he crawls under the table. “Thank you, Daddy.” He can hear Louis pick up the sandwich again, but his senses are overwhelmed as soon as he picks Louis’s soft cock up gently in his hand and feeds it slowly into his mouth, his nose settling easily against his pubic hair. He fights the impulse to suck on Louis’s musky length, forcing himself to simply enjoy the weight of it on his tongue.

One of Harry’s favourite things is kneeling by his daddy’s side, being fed from his daddy’s plate with his fingers. But there’s something beautiful in this, too, the way Louis can’t even see him under the table, but he can feel Harry’s mouth warm and loose around him while he eats the food Harry made for him. It’s like he doesn’t even need to see him to know that Harry is there, ready for him, whatever he wants or needs from him, and Harry loves it so much it almost hurts to keep himself from sucking greedily on Louis’s cock right then and there. But he won’t do that. He’s a good boy.

He still whines a little when Louis pushes his chair back, pulling himself out of Harry’s mouth just as his cock was starting to fill between his lips.

Louis stands up. “Come to the bedroom when you’ve finished the washing up.” He doesn’t even wait for Harry to emerge from under the table before he leaves the room.

The re-emergence of Louis’s cruel streak after his sweetness has Harry’s spine tingling as he brings his dish into the kitchen and places it in the sink. He runs the water over it for a minute or more before he shakes himself into sponging off the crumbs. He’s never been sure what it is about Louis that makes him want to… _submit_ , this way, but being so attuned to his mood makes Harry feel closer to him than ever, his head spinning with the possibilities of where Louis might take him.

Once the dish is drying in the rack, Harry walks to the bedroom slowly, his plug nudging every delicious place inside him with each step. When he gets to the doorway, he finds Louis sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on one hand and scrolling through his phone. He barely glimpses at Harry before he says, “Knees.”

Harry nods, slightly, to himself, before falling to his knees with a soft _thud_ on the carpet. Louis puts his phone down and beckons with one finger. Harry crawls to him, whimpering from the friction of the plug, until Louis holds up a hand.

“Sit up,” Louis says, and Harry complies, folding his hands into his lap neatly and keeping his eyes trained on Louis’s knees. Part of him wishes he could spend the rest of his life like this, moving his body into simple shapes at Louis’s command. It’s so easy to be so good for him like this.

Too easy, if the slight frown on Louis’s face is anything to go by. “Get hard for me,” he says, after a bit of a pause.

Harry nods, keeping his head hung low, and starts to move his hands to his cock, but freezes when Louis tuts.

Harry swallows. His hands fall to his sides loosely and he squeezes his eyes shut and imagines, as vividly as he can, his cock springing to life, doing what his daddy wants, but the milking seems to have taken so much out of him he can’t even manage that. After a few minutes, Louis sighs loudly, and it’s all Harry can do not to fall at his feet and say _sorry sorry sorry_.

“Hands behind your back.” Harry blinks at the command, not daring to lift his gaze, but after a moment clasps his hands behind his back.

Louis shuffles around on the bed and a moment later is kneeling behind Harry, fastening the leather cuffs around his wrists to each other. Harry tests them when he’s done, mouth open in a silent moan when he finds himself unable to move his arms. He closes his eyes again and tries with all his might to channel the arousal pouring over him into his cock, and he feels it twitch against his thigh.

Louis stands up and surveys his handiwork. He grips Harry by the hair and tugs him forward a little. Harry hunches over easily, with a gasp. “Why aren’t you hard yet?” Louis clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Chin up.”

Harry straightens up, letting out a garbled moan as his hands twitch in their restraints. “S-sorry, Daddy.” He glances down at his half-hard cock, growing but sensitive. “Trying.”

Louis sits back on the bed and crosses his legs, letting out a loud sigh. “I guess you don’t really want to fuck your daddy at all.”

“ _Do_ ,” Harry says desperately. He hadn’t even been thinking it, but of _course_ that’s what he wants, if Louis wants it of him, _Jesus_. “I do, Daddy, wanna.”

“Got myself all ready for you,” Louis continues, as if he didn’t hear Harry at all. He reaches behind himself and touches his hole, like a reminder. Harry’s mouth starts to water. “Figured you deserved a treat, for being so good, but here you are, not even _wanting_ what I give you.”

“No,” Harry says, shaking his head roughly, his collar feeling tight as he swallows hard, “no, _Daddy_ , I do, please, please, it just,” he pushes his hips forward slightly, trying to get friction on his cock from his thigh, “it _hurts_ , I’m trying, Daddy, _please_.”

“It hurts?” Louis says incredulously. He grabs a bottle of lube from the bedspread and pours some onto his hands before getting on his knees and squeezing Harry’s cock hard. Harry chokes out a gasp as Louis starts stroking him roughly, covering him with lube. “Are you complaining about your milking, Harry?”

“N-no,” Harry half-moans, shaking his head, his whole torso, making his arms swing uselessly behind his back. Louis’s hand is so rough and so _much,_ bringing him to full hardness so quickly he feels lightheaded, like all the blood is rushing out of him to fill his cock. Harry’s back arches with how oversensitive he is, tears springing to his eyes. “I— _my_ fault, Daddy, sorry, please, _please_.”

“Please what?” Louis drops Harry’s cock as suddenly as he’d grabbed it, and Harry shakes all over with a cry, feeling dizzy, not knowing if he wants Louis to keep jerking him off or let him go. “Are you gonna make me do all the work _again_?”

“ _No_ ,” Harry says again, his voice finally breaking on an incoherent sob as Louis gives his cock one more, harsh tug.

“Then _fuck me already_.” Louis turns, getting on all fours, and looks over his shoulder like he _still_ doesn’t trust Harry to get the picture.

It’s nearly impossible, with his hands chained behind his back, for Harry to scoot forward and position his cock anywhere _near_ Louis’s lube-slick hole, but fortunately Louis’s annoyance fades a little as Harry’s cock slides against his thighs, and he contorts himself into a good angle, even reaching behind himself to guide the tip of Harry’s cock to his entrance. It _hurts_ , already, a sharp burning where usually there’s only hot white perfect pleasure, but Louis lets out a soft little sigh, almost by accident, and Harry’s body relaxes a little, awash with content.

Even if Louis is pleased with him, though—and the heaviness of his breathing would suggest he is—once Harry’s cock finally glides past the magnificent tanned curves of Louis’s arse, there’s absolutely nothing Louis can do to help Harry’s overwhelming sensitivity. It makes it impossible to thrust without his thighs starting to twitch reflexively, and is made _much_ worse by Harry’s total lack of leverage in his bound position. If the way Louis clenches tightly around him and lets out a bored sigh is any indication, Harry doesn’t think he’s very interested in helping Harry anyway. Harry squeezes his eyes shut and pumps his hips forward a few quick times, before the sensitivity in his cock makes him pause and cry out.

“Are you even _trying_?” Louis puts his head against his forearms, sighs, and clenches tightly around Harry again. “Or do you not see the point, since you’re not going to come?”

Harry’s ears are ringing so loud he doesn’t know how he can hear _anything_ , but Louis’s words cut him to the bone. “ _No_.” He thrusts in weakly again before doubling over and trying breathlessly to rabbit his hips forward. “D-daddy, no, I’m—“

“Faster,” Louis says shortly, thrusting back hard against Harry’s cock so that his arse bounces against Harry’s hips. Harry chokes on the air in his throat, and Louis does it again. “Come on, do _better_.”

Harry sobs, his chained hands clanging as he slumps over in exhaustion, trying to pump his hips into Louis even as the pain drags him out of his _mind_. Louis sighs and picks up his phone from the bed, toying with it in his hands like he’s _that_ bored. “Maybe I should just get myself off,” he says, and if there’s a slight breathless quality to his voice, it’s not enough to override the abject failure Harry feels flushing his face.

“P-please.” Harry says, his voice roughened by his sobs as he slows to a halt inside Louis, balls-deep. Even just the tight pressure of Louis around him is _too much_ , but he still keeps begging, “Please, let me, Daddy, _Daddy_.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” Louis snaps. He slams his phone down on the ground. “Slow and hard, if you must.”

There’s just _no_ way Harry can keep going, not with his cock aching like it is and the terrible leverage imposed by his restraints. He can’t bring himself to say it, though, can’t make himself say _Daddy I can’t_ , so he just keeps garbling the word _please_ and rocking back and forth ever so slightly until Louis snaps again.

“ _Stop_.” Louis knees forward, and Harry’s cock falls out of him with a wet pop, bobbing painfully. Harry moves his mouth wordlessly—whether in relief or apology, he doesn’t know. Louis shakes his head. “Just stop.”

“ _Please_ ,” Harry says again, feeling another sob rise in his throat, “please, _please_ , Daddy.” He barely knows what he’s begging for, just knows he needs Louis to—give, or take, _something_.

“Stop _whining_ ,” Louis says, and Harry tries to straighten up, squeezes his eyes shut and tries to, at _least_ , sit up straight for him, but his face is a mess and his throat is sore from crying and he can’t make his shoulders stop shaking. When he’s still letting out small, helpless sounds a minute later, Louis tsks, then grabs Harry’s chin and says, “Open.”

Harry can barely feel his face, let alone hear over the buzzing in his head and the sound of his own laboured breathing, but when Louis gives him a command, his body follows, almost of its own will. Which is how Harry finds himself surprised by the ball gag shoved into his mouth, even though he’s the one who opened for it.

Harry chokes a little and moans as Louis positions the gag in his mouth. Louis pauses for a minute, holding Harry’s face in his hand. Harry’s eyes blink open as he bites down on the gag and he starts a little, when he sees the thick black dildo attached to the other end of the gag. Louis strokes Harry’s chin for a moment until Harry nods, the weight of the dildo making it a small, awkward motion. Louis fastens the gag around the back of Harry’s head.

“On your back.”

Harry doesn’t even consider how uncomfortable it will be, with his hands bound behind him, until he’s already splayed out on the floor for Louis. The hard metal part of the cuffs is digging into his back and his arms already ache but Louis looks pleased as he kneels over Harry’s head.

“Kick up if you need me to stop,” he says, barely loud enough for Harry to hear. Harry hums and nods before he’s even finished speaking, biting down on the gag as the dildo sways over his lips. “You hear me, H?” Louis asks, a little louder. He runs his thumb over Harry’s lower lip, a little wet with drool, stretched over the gag. “Do what I just said if you understand.”

Harry kicks his right foot up weakly, and Louis seems satisfied. He straddles Harry’s chest, facing away from him, balancing himself with his hands on Harry’s abs. Harry’s still half-hard, and he twitches at that, whining a little as the stress on his arms strains his shoulders. Then Louis’s round, glorious arse is coming down over Harry’s face and whatever part of Harry’s brain hasn’t yet switched off goes, and he closes his eyes and just focuses on letting Louis use him.

The dildo slides into Louis easily, prettily, making Harry go a little dizzy with how slick and open and _close_ Louis is as he rocks back towards mouth with the black length disappearing inside of him. The dildo is smaller than Harry’s cock, but Louis still makes a show of moaning loudly as it enters him, pushing the gag farther back into Harry’s mouth. Harry sputters, bobs his head slightly as he tries to get a better grip on the gag with his teeth, and Louis moans, the curve of his arse thrusting back so it’s only one tantalising inch from Harry’s face.

“Come on, H,” Louis says, then moans again as he circles his hips with the dildo inside. Harry whimpers, the sound trapped in his mouth by the gag and seeming to echo in every part of him. “Know you can do better than that. You’re not gonna make me touch myself, are you?”

Harry tries to stretch his arms, balling his hands into fists, and nods, bobbing the dildo inside Louis. As he does, Louis gasps a little, like he can’t help it.

“That’s it,” he says, his voice higher, a little breathless. “Know what you can do with that mouth.” Harry swallows and bobs his head again, drawing a soft grunt out of Louis. “Make me come.”

After Louis says that, Harry’s head starts to bob up and down of its own accord, fucking Louis with the dildo even as it makes him choke on the gag. Louis moans encouragingly, and as Harry works the thick plastic cock to a steady rhythm in Louis’s arse, Harry feels like he’s floating, like the strain in his shoulders and his neck and his arms has pushed him out of his body and the only things tethering him to the world are Louis’s little gasps and the visible clenching of his arse around the toy. Louis starts impassive, having Harry do most of the work, but after a few minutes, when Harry starts to slow down as the ache of his muscles washes over him, Louis works back against him quickly, insistently, not scolding him but instead moaning wantonly and clutching Harry’s hips hard, and when Louis comes wet and hot over the butterfly on Harry’s stomach, Harry’s body is so overworked and overstimulated the slightest touch might make him cry but he doesn’t want it to be over, he wants to _live_ in the moment Louis clenches and moans and comes all over him because it means he’s good, Harry’s done good, he and it and everything is perfect.

When Louis climbs off Harry’s face, his expression has totally changed. Instead of looking peeved, or angry, or on edge, he looks sleepy and soft and so, so fond as he helps Harry back up to his knees and pulls the dildo gag out of his mouth. Harry gasps fresh air as he does, feeling all the aches that he’d pushed his mind past hitting him at once.

“Harry, sweetheart,” Louis is saying quietly, “you did so well for me, baby.” He undoes the chain linking Harry’s arms together behind his back and Harry exhales heavily, rolling his shoulders as his hands fall to his sides. “Did everything I asked perfectly,” Louis continues, stroking Harry’s cheek. Harry whines, speechless, and rubs softly against Louis’s hand. “Do you think you can come now, baby? You deserve it, you made me so happy.”

It takes Harry a minute to process the words, and even longer to remember how to speak. Louis runs his fingers through his hair, tugging just hard enough for Harry to shiver. “Don’t know,” Harry whimpers after a minute. His voice feels small and weirdly high-pitched for how utterly _fucked_ he feels. “I don’t know, Daddy, I— _oh_.” Louis wraps a hand gently around Harry’s cock, still a little hard and wet from earlier, and Harry’s probably one tug from crying again.

“My lovely boy,” Louis mutters against Harry’s cheek, between soft kisses. He strokes Harry gently and Harry gasps, throws back his head, tears pooling in his eyes. “My darling, my beautiful boy, want you to come, you’re so pretty when you come for me, so perfect, so good.”

Harry winces as Louis tugs on his cock gently, making him hard again. “Hurts,” he mumbles, but it’s not really a protest, and Louis knows that, can read it in the way Harry keens when he swipes his thumb over his dry slit.

“I know, you already gave me so much.” Louis’s finger runs through the mess of his come on Harry’s chest, and Harry opens his mouth greedily to suck it in, loving the way Louis’s fingers feel against his tongue and the salty taste of Louis’s come. “But you’re gonna give me more, aren’t you, baby?” Louis pulls his fingers out of Harry’s mouth and Harry sighs.

“Daddy.” Harry spreads his legs slightly, breath hitching a little in surprise as he feels the metal plug shift inside him. “Wanna try.”

Louis kisses Harry’s temple and smoothes over his hair. Harry whines as Louis tightens his fist around his cock. “Fuck my hand, sweetie,” Louis whispers in his ear. “I know you can.”

Harry _doesn’t_ know that he can, really, but when Louis says that his hips pump forward automatically, like Louis’s words bypass his brain entirely and his body just _follows_. And Louis doesn’t stop, keeps on whispering in Harry’s ear how wonderful he is, how far he’s come, how much he loves him, and his fist is warm and wet and just tight enough for the friction to pull Harry closer to a peak he hadn’t dared to _think_ of before now. His cock hurts, it really, _really_ does, not just from the fucking but like Harry’s been overstimulated from this whole— _everything_ , without his dick even being touched for most of it. He whines and collapses forward against Louis’s frame, his shoulders shaking, his ears buzzing, his cock twitching, and suddenly—or maybe not so suddenly at all—he’s flying.

Harry can feel Louis’s body against him, Louis whispering things to him, Louis rubbing soothing circles into his shoulders, and he knows it’s _important_ , that if Louis were to let go he might crash, but he can’t focus his eyes or his ears on him, can’t figure out quite what Louis is doing, but all that matters is that Louis is _there_ and they’re together but Harry is also somewhere else. Somewhere he can chase the colours popping up behind his eyelids. Somewhere warm and easy and home. Somewhere that starts to flit away when he starts to wonder where exactly it is.

He’s not sure how long it is before he comes back, before he goes from swimming in the fact that Louis’s touching him to actually seeing him next to him, but Harry seems to have blacked out for some of it. They’re on the bed now, though, and Harry’s uncuffed and wrapped around Louis like he’s a giant teddy. Louis’s smiling at him. Harry smiles back weakly.

“Babe?” Louis runs his fingers through Harry’s hair. “You with me?”

“Good,” Harry mumbles, in response to something Louis maybe asked a long time ago. He closes his eyes and hums against Louis’s chest. “Really, really good.”

“I’m so proud of you,” Louis says into Harry’s ear, a twinge of something like awe in his tone. “I gave you so much, and you did it all so well.”

Harry hums. Louis strokes his hair, then tilts the water bottle to his lips so he can drink. He starts to feel a little less fuzzy, even if it still feels like his blood is pulsing through his veins at half its normal speed. He feels like he’s at the stage of sobering where he realises how drunk he was, and he blushes, curling tighter around Louis like some kind of defence.

“I came,” he mumbles against Louis’s chest. “At the start. I—“

“Figured you might,” Louis says. “I know you said you wanted to try milking but it’s really intense. Think coming put you even further under, as it were.”

“Yeah.” Harry cuddles closer into Louis’s side. “I—good. Liked it.” Harry swallows thickly. “Like… I got to be good all over again. To prove it.”

Louis’s silent for a minute. “You never had to prove to me you were good,” he says, into Harry’s ear while he squeezes his knee. “You just are. Everything about you is good.”

Harry isn’t sure that’s true—he’s come down enough from his high to remember he’s only human—but Louis makes him feel that way, and that might be more important than anything. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” Louis kisses his temple softly, then smirks. “So, do I still get to feed you if you’re up?”

Harry butts his forehead against Louis’s and smiles wickedly before opening his mouth wide with an _ahhhhhh_. Louis laughs into his shoulder before picking up the sandwich Louis had darted to the kitchen to retrieve while Harry was down and placing the corner in Harry’s mouth. Harry bites down and chews neatly with a satisfied grin, then opens his mouth up again, sticking out his tongue.

This time Louis tries to shove the whole thing in his mouth at once. Harry squawks and elbows him in the ribs, and for a while they dissolve into a pile of giggles and kisses and crumbs, until Louis ends up sitting in Harry’s lap, picking up the half of the sandwich that hasn’t been thrown onto the ground, and feeding him again, for real this time, kissing Harry’s forehead while he chews.

They’re always taking care of each other. Sure, they show it in different ways—sometimes because the dice tell them to, sometimes because they need different things—but playing like this always reminds them of what it means.


	2. Spanking, Lingerie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The tags that apply to this chapter are: flogging, chains (for Louis POV). lingerie, exhibitionism, humiliation, and DAVID BECKHAM (for Harry POV).**

"Oh God, that's it," Louis moans, his eyes fluttering shut. "So good."

Harry swats at his arm with a greasy hand. "Sometimes I think you like the post-coital pizza more than the... coitus."

"It's your fault, y'know," Louis points out, mouthful of pizza. "Always going on about how you want me to gain weight."

Harry abandons the pizza completely and starts munching on Louis' barely-there tummy instead. "I love this," he says for the millionth time.

Louis rolls his eyes and tries not to giggle. "Not really. You just wanna pretend you knocked me up."

He can _feel_ him smile, before he starts to sing, " _You're just a small bump unborn_ —"

"Oh no, that's horribly depressing, don't sing that to our unborn child."

Harry looks up with a pout. "You sing something then."

Louis clears his throat. "You're really ruining what I have going on with this pizza. Awful wingman."

"Come on babe, sing for me." He's doing the smile and the eyelashes thing. Louis hates him. "I know you're good."

Louis regrets ever having shown Harry those videos of himself singing. He's... kind of good, but his boyfriend does it for a _living_ ; it's a bit embarrassing to sing in front of him. He's not the one with the humiliation kink. "No way."

"Please?" Harry says into his tummy, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs.

Fuck it. It's going on a week since the second roll of the dice, and Louis's still riding the high, falling over himself at any chance to shower Harry with affection. Harry's lapping it up, totally abusing it to get Louis to do stuff like wash the dishes or sing the first thing that comes to mind. " _If you gave me a chance I would take it / it's a shot in the dark but I'll make it / Know with all of your heart, you can't shame me / When I am with you, there's no place I'd rather be._ "

Harry buries his nose in Louis's belly button. And then they both sing, " _N-n-n-no, no, no, no place I'd rather be!_ "

Louis giggles and tries to pull Harry up, but Harry only goes as far as Louis's raised knee. God, he's almost hard to look at. Harry's so pleased he's radiant, and that makes Louis happier than any pizza could, because it feels like _he's_ done a good job. They need to be sickeningly cute right now. Louis _needs_ Harry after they play, needs to shower him with love and attention and softness, and Harry _needs_ to soak it all up and give back. "I love you so much. We should start a duo act."

"Please," Louis says with a snort. "What will they call us? Houis? Larry?"

"The Tomlinsons, duh."

 _Jesus Chris._ "H."

"Just saying." He smiles, unrepentant.

And Louis knows they're— _this_ is pretty much a done deal, six kids and a dog, but he still feels butterflies when Harry says stuff like that so casually. "You couldn't take my name."

Harry frowns like Louis's just offended him. "Why? Because I'm a man? I'll have you know a lot of women these days don't—"

" _No_ , because you're… _Harry Styles_. It's on your CDs and everything."

"Are you saying that's more important?"

"Are you saying it's not important?"

Harry bites his thigh. "I'm saying Harry Tomlinson has a nice _ring_ to it."

Louis snorts. "Say it to my arse."

"Maybe I will." And then his knees are hooked over Harry's shoulders and _fuck_.

"Oh my god, Harold, I must not have fucked you well enough if you're not craving this pizza."

Harry huffs, mostly against his arse, while his hands start massaging his cheeks. "And I must not know you at all if you're trying to talk me out of eating you out."

Like hell. "Can I still eat the pizza?" he hazards, mostly joking.

"I don't mind. Want your arse more."

It's moments like these that always overwhelm him with how much love he feels. Like, obviously he gets overwhelmed in scenes sometimes, because he might have plenty of experience but Harry's _such_ an exceptional sub, he brings out things in Louis he didn't even know he had. But more than that, Harry's just an exceptional boyfriend. Louis's only proper relationship. Probably the last, too. Christ, he's going to marry the fuck out of this boy. He's got hot pizza in his mouth and a tongue in his arse and he's moaning so much he can't even chew but it's totally worth it.

He's roused out of his euphoric pizza-Harry-induced high by more singing. _I don't care what people say when we're together / You know I wanna be the one to hold you when you sleep_. Since he can feel how occupied Harry's mouth is, he's pretty sure that's just his ringtone. He doesn't even bother to open his eyes, but Harry actually stops. Louis curses.

Harry nips along his thigh, subtly wiping his messy chin. "Check who it is."

Louis huffs, opening his eyes begrudgingly. "Don't wanna. Keep going."

"Daddy," Harry whispers with hooded eyes, like he's trying to kill Louis, or just knows it'll get him anything he wants. "Check."

Louis grunts for ten years and reaches for his phone with a shaky hand. "It's Niall. See? Hardly important."

"Could be an emergency," Harry notes offhandedly, but there's nothing casual about the way he's lowering his head again, scraping Louis's inner thighs with his teeth. "Answer it."

Louis looks down at him curiously, but all Harry offers is a smile. Fine. "Hello. _Shit_ —" Of course as soon as he picks up Harry reattached his mouth to his crack. Harry's _playing_.

"Tommo? Everything alright?"

Right. Niall. Well, Louis can play right back. He sounds very cool and collected when he says, "Yeah, what's up?"

"Nothing much. Zayn's here and we were talking about the fact we haven't hung out since Harry got back."

"Come over, you douche," Zayn adds, since apparently Louis has a bigger audience than he thought. "We'll invite other people, make a proper party out of it."

"As if you have other friends," Louis says with an eye-roll. "You're nothing without— _oh_ —" Harry must've gotten frustrated with Louis's lack of response, since he spreads Louis open and licks inside him again.

Louis tingles all over, brain shorting out for a long moment until Zayn says, "Bro?"

"Mm-hm, listen, we can't come," he says in a rush.

"Thought that was just me," Harry whispers, loud enough to reach Niall and Zayn, apparently.

"Are you together right now?" Niall asks.

Louis rolls his eyes and puts the phone on speaker. "Well, it would've been pretty strange to have a tongue up my arse if we weren't."

He doesn't actually hear Zayn's protests, because Harry's reaction to Louis ruining his game is to slap his arse. It forces a giggle out of him, and he ruffles Harry's hair. "Babe, do it like you mean it or don't do it at all."

Harry pouts and sucks a vicious bruise into Louis's thigh. Niall ignores the whole thing, a knack of his, and says cheerily, "Great, since you're already together you can be together on my roof!"

Louis says, "Look, we just can't," right when Harry says, "Sure, sounds fun."

"Why can't we?" Harry asks him, confusion in his eyes.

Louis blinks. Isn't it obvious? "Because we're _together_."

Harry doesn't follow. "Yeah, and we can be together at Niall's place. It's no big deal."

"C'mon, H, I haven't had you alone in ages." It comes out way too desperate—too honest—even Niall detects it, and hurries to hang up on them.

Harry comes to a crouch, folding his arms on Louis's knees. "What's going on?"

"Look, if you wanna go we can go," Louis says immediately.

Harry doesn't give up that easily. "Did you and Niall have a fight or summat?"

As if it's possible to have a fight with Niall. "No, it's not him."

Harry quirks an eyebrow. "Then?"

"I..." He puts his pizza back on the plate and sighs. "I _just_ shared you with everyone for weeks. I don't wanna let you go."

"You didn't _share_ me with _anyone_ , what are you talking about?" Harry asks, incredulous.

Louis looks away resolutely. "It's just been hard on me, okay?"

"And you think it was easy for me?" He sounds kind of hurt, and _no_ , Louis did _not_ aim for a confrontation.

"You were _doing_ stuff, performing and touring—"

"Yeah, _without you_ ," Harry cuts him off, squeezing his knees. "You think I wasn't pining? That I didn't think about you every fucking second? That I was able to sleep on nights we had a row, or worse, didn't talk at all? And you apparently did your workshop with your BDSM people—"

Louis gasps, a flicker of annoyance rising in him. "I told you it was good money, what's wrong with my workshop? Or do you have a problem with _BDSM people_ , because love, I've got some news for you."

Harry opens his mouth like he's about to argue. And then he wraps his lips around Louis's half-hard cock. Louis's hand flies to Harry's hair to pull him off, even while his hips buck. " _H_ , what are you doing?"

Harry sighs exasperatedly. Over his cock. "I don't wanna fight. Just forget it. Let's come and go to Niall's. It'll be fun."

Louis deflates. It's hard to keep his fighting spirit when Harry's inches from his cock anyway. He wasn't even cross to begin with, he's _over_ it. Has to be. "Which part?"

"Both, you shit. You love Niall." Harry considers his dick very seriously, and then says, "You can tie me up when we get back, if you still feel the need to keep me hostage."

Louis isn't sure he appreciates Harry's ridiculing tone, but he'll definitely take him up on that. "Better be quick then," Louis says, hand reaching out to tangle in Harry's hair. "Since you're so eager to see Niall."

Harry's smirk is truly devious.

Barely two minutes later Louis' coming down Harry's throat with three fingers pressing on his prostate. Five minutes later Harry's coming down _his_ throat. Louis also offers him the last pizza slice as a peace offering. The fight is all but forgotten by the time they clamber into the car.

*

Louis doesn't know what he was afraid of. Being together around other people is a _treat_. They stick to each other like glue, partly to make everyone uncomfortable but also because, for some reason, they drifted back to that clingy HarryandLouis place they go to after a scene. It's been a week since they rolled the dice for the second time, but it was hardly forgettable. Holding Harry with others around them makes him feel protective, feel like showing them that Harry's _his_ boy. Harry's just happy to cuddle.

"You're gonna get stuck like that, you know."

"Really, Zayn? Is that what's gonna happen? Do you have evidence of that? Have you witnessed a lot of couples get stuck mid-snog?"

Harry giggles into his neck, so Louis feels extra vindicated. Zayn only strengthens the feeling by rolling his eyes. "No, Tommo, since I've never seen a couple as clingy as you two."

"You're just jealous," Louis says instantly, curling up deeper into Harry at the same time that Harry tightens his strong arms around him. "If you had this boy you wouldn't be able to keep your hands off him either."

Zayn probably has a snappy comeback, he always does, but Louis stopped listening, turning all his attention back to Harry. "But you're all mine," he says, quieter, and runs his hands through Harry's hair.

Harry beams at him, whole face contorting like he can't contain all the happiness inside him, and this is his favourite face on his favourite boy. Louis pulls Harry in by the hair and kisses him again, sighing a little when Harry instantly opens up. His lips are slick and puffy from all the kissing they've already done tonight, but he's still soft and needy when Louis deepens the kiss and breathes him in and doesn't release.

"They still at it?" Niall asks, and Louis feels the sofa dip when he sits down on the end unoccupied by their cocoon.

"It's been hours," Zayn comments dryly, like there _aren't_ fifteen other people in the near vicinity to entertain him. "Maybe they finally got secretly engaged."

Harry actually moans into his mouth at that, loud enough that Zayn and Niall can probably hear it, because he's an exhibitionistic little shit and also ridiculous. Louis breaks the kiss with a wet sound to laugh at Harry. Ten seconds later they're tickling each other. Ten seconds after _that_ Harry's slumped on the armrest of the sofa and Louis's kissing him softly. It hasn't been _hours_ , but it's been long enough that Louis's jaw aches a little and Harry's lips must be scratchy from Louis's beard. They don't stop, relishing their closeness and warmth.

Louis freezes up when suddenly he feels something cold being set on his lower back. He blinks up at Harry in shock. "Nialler, did you just put your beer bottle on me?"

"Just putting you to use. Unless you plan on not sucking Harry's face and engaging in the party I _kindly_ invited you to?"

Louis should consider this. They _are_ being rude twats by ignoring everyone and publicly displaying so much affection. And it's not like they can't have a perfectly lovely night in the lads' company. Louis should stop occupying Harry's mouth so he can actually chat about his _great_ time on the road and the _amazing_ American fans and all that shit.

He should, but he doesn't. Because Niall "putting him to use" makes Harry blush a fiery red, makes the harmless kissing finally turn edgier, makes Louis bite Harry's shiny bottom lip and purposefully rub his rough stubble over Harry's smooth skin. Makes them remember the reason they've been disgustingly attached at the hip for a week. Harry draws back and breathlessly whispers, this time really for Louis's ears only, "I wanna go again, if you're ready."

"Yeah?" Louis asks, nipping along Harry's reddened jaw. "I fucked you just a couple hours ago."

Harry swats at his arm and huffs. "I wanna _play_."

"Are you sure? Last time I played Monopoly with Liam it got violent, I don't think we're ready for a rematch. _Poker_ , however—"

" _Lewis_ ," Harry whines, leaning up to shove his head painfully against Louis's chest. " _The_ _dice_."

" _Oooh_ ," Louis drawls, smiling despite the fact he's stirring just from the thought. "The _dice_. Well why didn't you say so?"

Harry rolls his eyes exaggeratedly and then closes them and leans back on the sofa. "Zayn, will you make out with me instead of this idiot?"

Before Zayn can say something snappy Louis growls, loud and animalistic, and sucks a bruise right on Harry's Adam's apple. Give people something to talk about. When it's nice and tender Louis lifts up again and gives Harry's lips a much kinder kiss. "Not tonight, love."

"Why?" Harry grumps again, subtly tilting his hips up so Louis can feel he's half-hard. Which is interesting, but not the point.

"We've been drinking and you've got brunch with your sister tomorrow, remember?"

Harry grunts like he's being tortured. "Tomorrow night, then?"

"Mm-hmm," Louis agrees easily, and ducks down again, but he stops just short of Harry's lips. He's never been, like, the king of good decisions, especially not when buzzed and in the lap of the love of his life, _but_ he does recognise this particular moment. If they start kissing again, it won't be just to kiss. And he might actually feel bad if he fucked Harry in Niall's bathroom again.

He bumps their noses together instead, heart melting a little when Harry smiles brilliantly and makes a cute sound in response. "I love you so much," Harry says, again (probably) intentionally too loud. Niall groans. Louis kisses Harry's nose and then, finally, slides out of his lap and right into Niall's.

"Lads! What have we been talking about?"]

*

Louis's antsy. He's been antsy all day, since the moment he woke up in an empty bed and up until now, when he gets a text from Harry. _'gone babyshopping with gems for a few. miss you! .xxxxxxxxxxxxxx_ '

Louis _knows_ Harry will miss him, and even if he didn't it'd be okay, they're not actually one entity. Except that sometimes it feels like they are and Louis wants Harry _here_ , at least when they're in the same country. He doesn't actually tell him that, he's not a complete dickhead. He just texts him ' _please don't buy a discount baby again_ ' and puts his phone facing down on the sofa while he tries to find a footie match. And then picking it up and texting ' _miss u too xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_ ' before firmly stuffing his phone between the cushions. And then fishing it back out to look at a picture Harry sent him of a tiny baby sailor outfit, but that's _it_ , he's totally strong and independent.

As the hours pass, he doesn't grow any calmer, but he's less uneasy and more… riled up. He knows that this itch he's struggling through isn't just missing Harry anymore, it's something else building up in him. Because Harry will be home soon, and Louis's ready. Finally recovered just enough to roll the dice again. And that's a good itch, that's the kind of itch that makes ideas swim through his head.

By the time Harry comes home Louis's disproportionately eager. He tries playing it cool, stays glued to the kitchen chair when he hears Harry open the door, but his heart rate picks up ridiculously. "Hi babe," Harry calls out, toeing off his boots. The fact they're heavy enough for it to be audible is ridiculous in itself. Sometimes Louis thinks about asking him to wear high heels, just to see what it'll do to his long, muscular legs. Louis might need to slow his roll. "In here, love," he says, totally calm and collected.

Harry shuffles into the kitchen and when they see each other for the first time today there's a full second where they just smile dopily. And then Harry remembers he's holding ten thousand bags so he dumps them on the kitchen table, and Louis remember how much he wants Harry so he pulls him down for a fierce kiss.

"What was that for?" Harry asks, dazed and breathless when Louis finally lets up.

"Nothing," Louis says, worrying his bottom lip. Harry follows the motion with his eyes. He's hooked.

"Something tells me you're not interested in the burgers I got you."

" _Something_ —" Louis slides his hand over Harry's crotch "—and I are always on the same page. Amazing, innit?"

"I bought the baby sailor," Harry protests weakly.

"Never thought you wouldn't," Louis says honestly. Since the moment his sister told him she was pregnant, Harry filled their own flat with so much cute baby crap that Louis felt like he was back in his mum's house.

"Well, do you wanna see?" Harry asks, flustered.

"No."

In case he isn't being clear, Louis drops the dice he might have been holding all day onto the table. They clatter around until they bump into Harry's thigh. Harry, who's motionless and wide-eyed. Louis suddenly worries. "Do you... not want to? It's cool if you're not ready—"

"No, I—I thought _you_ wouldn't be."

Louis shakes his head resolutely. "Should I roll then?"

It's less ceremonious this time. Harry just dumps himself in the chair next to Louis and nods eagerly. Louis tilts his head silently and Harry smiles and kisses his cheek. He rolls.

The action die lands on spanking, and the number die lands on 5. Harry bristles immediately. "Five hits? I can take that in my sleep."

Louis rolls his eyes. "That's not what the five means."

Harry looks at him curiously as Louis pulls out the instruction page he handily kept in the pocket of his sweats. "The other die numbers _implements._ Ye of little faith," he mutters while looking up the part on spanking. _If the action die lands on **SPANKING** , the number die signifies how the spanking will be carried out by the roller: 1: hand, 2: belt, 3: paddle, 4: riding crop, 5—_"Oh my god, H, you won't believe this."

Harry snatches the page from Louis's hands and reads it over. Louis can tell the moment he reaches the right part because he starts laughing hard. "You shithead, you _cheated_."

"I did _not_ , it must have been divine intervention."

"I doubt anything divine knows you owe me a flogging."

Louis throws the dice directly at Harry. He's obviously wrong. It was written in the stars.

(They have this thing. When Harry wants to try out pain stuff for the first time, Louis's only rule is that he tries them on Louis first. It's not really for his enjoyment, since he doesn't get off on it like Harry and can take significantly less, but Louis wants Harry to know firsthand what Louis will be doing to him. He doesn't have a complicated philosophy behind it, he just believes that even when Harry gives up all the control, a part of him needs to rememberwhy _Louis's_ doing this, how it's not just about causing Harry pain. He's a responsible kind of guy.

The flogger came up a few days before Harry left for the tour, and they didn't have a lot of time to actually use it because flogging takes practice and Louis insisted on teaching Harry the same pedantic way he now teaches the doms who come to his workshop. When they finally got to it, Louis enjoyed it a lot more than he thought he would, and Harry ended up fucking him from behind so well he could barely string together a sentence, let alone reciprocate. Until now.)

His fingers are twitching already, restless now that the dice have been rolled. He can tell Harry's getting into it too, no longer smiling. They're starting now. Louis cracks his knuckles. "Let's talk it out. How… much do you want?"

Harry shrugs. "A lot."

Louis nudges his ankle. "Yeah?"

"Long day," he mumbles.

"Need to unwind?"

Harry bites his lip and reaches out to tangle their fingers together. "Need your attention."

Louis grins at him. "You realise that it's not like with the paddle, right?"

"I figured, like, from doing it to you. Does it hurt more?"

"It's…" He shrugs. "It's different. It's not like a hard thing hitting you, it's more… complex, I think, it builds up more. But because it's more flexible you really have to know what you're doing."

Harry rubs his thumb into Louis's palm reassuringly, but he sounds a bit off when he says, "I know you do, I'm sure you've done it a million times. I trust you. D'you trust me to take it?"

He looks at Harry's sweet face and thinks about striking him with the paddle dozens of times in one sitting, thinks about having him pressed up against the wall and spanking him with his own belt. He's never been flogged, but he's no stranger to impact play. Louis's quite confident he'll take it well. If nothing else, he looks eager enough to try that Louis can't decide for him. "Yes."

Harry smiles at him encouragingly. "Let's do it then. Hit me with your best shot."

They're both quiet for a moment, and then sing together, " _Fire awa-a-y_."

They're all over each other in seconds, kissing and touching until Louis gets his fill and stands up. He hardens his features and voice. "Go to the bedroom then."

Harry's hand tightens around his significantly. "Alone?"

He could explain that he wants to set everything up, but it's easier just to say, "Did I stutter?" and have Harry scamper off. "Take off everything but your pants and wait facing away from the door!" he calls out after him.

He's got a vague plan forming. "A lot" for Harry means a lot of pain, and a lot more than for the average person. Louis needs to think carefully about what he wants, and then about what he needs. Range, for the flogger to whip properly, but bending Harry over a table has never been a favourite of his. Too cheesy. It'll hurt a lot more if— _yeah_ , and then he could throw in a blindfold like he wanted last time. He could play with _ice_.

He's quite smug when he makes his way to the bedroom. He likes having a fully formulated plan, and more than that, he likes keeping Harry in the dark. Not literally, though. He claps to turn on the bedroom light and then again to dim it, because Harry's rich enough that they have that sort of thing, the same way they have a fancy ice box that Louis's currently carrying. Finally, he focuses on Harry.

He's in the middle of the room in his tiny black briefs, kneeling even though Louis didn't ask him to, back ramrod straight even though Louis hasn't touched him yet. Louis quietly sets the ice box behind the door so Harry won't be able to see. "Good," he says offhandedly, coming up to run his fingers through Harry's hair. "Want you to stand up, though."

Harry scrambles too fast, ends up stumbling a little into Louis. " _Baby_ ," Louis reprimands. Harry ducks his head like he's embarrassed, or like he's trying to make himself smaller. When they're toe-to-toe their height difference is even more significant, but Louis doesn't mind. He fucking loves it, it challenges him, makes him feel even bigger when he breaks Harry down. Finally Harry's steady, and he clasps his hands behind his back. "Lovely," Louis comments, calming him. "Want you to stand right..." He looks up to the ceiling and takes a few steps left. "Here."

Harry looks up too, curious. " _Oh,_ " he says in realisation, and practically runs to where Louis is. Directly under the hook embedded in their ceiling. " _Yeah_."

Louis nods, and leaves him staring up while he rifles through their box. Cuffs, chain… oh, a love egg, nice. Finally, he pulls out a flogger. He picked it specifically with Harry in mind, the tails thinner than he would have taken for himself, so the strikes will be on the stingy side. Harry said he wanted it to hurt. It will. (There might also be hot pink tails and a tiny H engraved on the handle. He's a lovesick idiot.)

When he turns back around to face Harry, he catches him looking. Well, he catches him swinging his head the other way lightning-fast, probably hoping Louis hasn't noticed him. Louis tuts. "Curious, H?"

Harry nods, but manages to keep his eyes trained on the hook. Louis dumps everything but the cuffs and chain on the bed, and advances on him. "Do it yourself, then."

"What—" Louis throws the cuffs his way without warning, and Harry catches one but misses the other. He picks it up and when he straightens back up he's blushing hard and mumbling, "Sorry, Daddy."

His hands are shaky when he fits the cuffs on himself, already showing that side of him that likes being pushed. That's good, since Louis's starting to feel that side of himself that likes watching Harry flushed and flustered. When he's done he presents his hands to Louis and ducks his head. Louis doesn't say anything, just climbs on the bed with the chain and circles it twice over the hook. From there, he grabs Harry's wrists and tugs his arms up roughly.

He marked the exact links he should attach the cuffs to for this particular purpose, so that Harry's long, long body is all stretched out for him but he doesn't have to stand on his toes. This is going to take a while, he doesn't want Harry's legs to give out before he's done. (The marks were made with cheap little glow in the dark stickers. Louis's the fucking MacGyver of sex toys, no wonder people pay outrageously to learn from him.)

When he hops back to the floor he gives Harry a long look, not exactly voluntarily. Like, the whole plan is to make Harry sweat for a while, but sometimes he catches even Louis off-guard. Times like these, where his hands are clenched, where his delicious biceps are flexing, where his abs are tight and their newest matching tattoo, the laurels, are stretched and gorgeous. Where his endless legs are unsteady, muscles bulging, because his feet aren't touching the floor comfortably. Because he let Louis chain him to the ceiling.

More than anything, that's what gets to him. How much this gorgeous boy is willing to give him—give up for him—again and again. He's completely helpless like this, can't move lest he'd lose his footing, can't cover himself from Louis's eyes raking over him. He loves it, tenting his briefs already. Louis's getting uncomfortable in his sweats, but he doesn't intend to undress tonight.

He rounds Harry and looks at him from the back instead, this time less admiring and more focused. He makes a beautiful target, but his muscles bunching up aren't just for looks. Louis knows the more tense he is the more it'll hurt, and his broad, strong back never looks the way it does when he's chained with his arms up. Just looking at his prominent shoulder blades makes Louis want to _start_ , but, despite popular opinion, Louis knows to be patient when it works in his favour.

With Harry, it always does. He can work himself up better than Louis sometimes, if he's just left alone and waiting and wondering. Louis can't leave him right now, not like this, but he can watch. Can just stare at him, for so long that Harry's breaths come out as heavy as they do when he's pumping his cock. For so long that he hears him mumbling _daddy_. "What is it?" he snaps evenly, and doesn't stop circling him.

"Please," Harry whispers, his feet shuffling on the carpet, his back arching a little, impossibly tempting. Louis wants to swat it a little, but he's being _patient_.

"Please what?" Louis asks, standing directly behind Harry, close enough to breathe on him, to see goosebumps appear on his skin.

" _Touch me_." It's a tiny, broken thing, barely breathed out, but it makes Louis bite on his lip with _want_.

"No," he says, like it's easy, and comes to face Harry. He nearly cracks when he sees his face, pinched like the rest of him, sweaty under a curtain of wavy hair. His eyes are open wide and glassy, pleading, and Louis wishes he could take a picture. Wishes he could touch him already. He _will_ , he will slap and scratch and tease him long before he flogs him, to get the endorphins going, but before the physical part he needs to get a lock on the psychological part. Nothing gets Harry under faster than being restrained with the promise of pain. Louis wants so much to praise him just for existing, but it's not the time.

He gets out of Harry's sight again, but he makes noises, drags his feet and huffs, so Harry knows he's close but just unwilling to touch him. Harry struggles in the cuffs for a moment, making the chain rattle loudly and himself wince. He settles finally, but _still_ his muscles keep twitching, strained and uncomfortable. He doesn't even want out. He wants to be touched.

"Please," Harry breathes again, probably unaware that he even did, but Louis keeps ignoring him and just watches sweat glide down his back, to the waistband of his pants. His eyes linger there, glued to Harry's pert little arse. His mind drifts to the egg-shaped vibrator sitting on the bed, what it might do to him if he turned it on between sets. It's another rig of Louis's, custom-made so the egg vibrates wirelessly but is still attached to a tiny chain, easy to pull out. Usually they don't bother with the small vibes for Harry, he's a greedy motherfucker, but he thinks it'll work for tonight.

He comes to face him again, and Jesus, Harry looks even more devastated than before, his body _drifting_ toward Louis's like it's begging to be touched without Harry's permission. His eyes snap to his hands but, no, Harry's still holding himself up. He's just being needy. Louis drops to his knees abruptly, and he's still careful not to touch but Harry _whimpers_ like his cock is already down his throat. "Please, please touch me, _please Daddy_."

Louis frowns up at him. "I said _no_ , H."

Harry sways a little and makes a pathetic sound, can't help himself. "Please."

He makes sure to breathe directly on his crotch, tease him just that much more before he sighs long-sufferingly and climbs back to his feet. He remembers his thoughts from earlier and spits, "You're being greedy, Harry. Thought you'd just roll the dice and get everything you wanted?"

Harry squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head violently, like it physically pains him that Louis thinks so little of him. "Didn't, wanna be good."

Louis's heart clenches. He doesn't waver. "Well, you're gonna have to try harder. I don't think you deserve to be touched yet. In fact, I don't think you should even see me. I don't think you should see anything. Just stay quiet in the dark and let Daddy look at you."

He doesn't wait for a reaction before he turns away from Harry and walks to the dresser, picking up Harry's bright blue headscarf and slipping the soft fabric between his fingers. Harry's worrying his bottom lip with this teeth, and it's probably the only thing keeping him from begging again. Louis walks right up to him, even raises his hands, and Harry juts his chin out like all he wants is for Louis to stroke his face.

Louis shakes his head and takes a step back, walking around Harry to slip the fabric over his eyes and tying it carefully, so as not to touch him. "H?" he asks, meaning _is that tight enough_ , meaning _I'll warn you before I do something we haven't done before_.Harry bows his head, meaning _yes_ , meaning _surrender_.

"Good," Louis says, and Harry shivers just from that, just from the casual praise. He's amazing. If he knew half the things he did unconsciously for Louis, he wouldn't even try to "be good". The blindfold is good for many things—keeping Harry on his toes, allowing him to sink just that bit further, but more than anything, it enables _Louis_ to let go of his scowl and just admire Harry.

He does another circle, can't help it, wants to see the blindfold sitting neatly over his cheekbones, wants to see his hard cock, wants to stand close enough that he can feel Harry's skin radiating for his touch, and test that Harry won't try to cling to him. He doesn't. He's a good boy. Louis doesn't give that to him yet, instead gets out of range and grabs the egg and the bottle of lube they'll have to replace soon.

He gets on his knees again, this time behind Harry, and pulls his pants down slowly, just under the lower part of his cheeks. Harry breathes in sharply but doesn't whine, which is pleasing enough. "You wanna be good, baby?" Louis asks, mostly to mask the sound of him uncapping the lube and pouring some on his fingers and the egg.

"Yeah, yes, Daddy," Harry says determinedly. Well, as much as he can with his voice as shaky as his knees.

"Don't move," he orders, and then spreads his cheeks and slides two fingers into him. _Louis_ feels like collapsing as soon as he does, because Harry's tight as a fucking vice around him, his whole body clenched with the effort of staying steady and still. He doesn't know if Harry manages just because Louis told him to, or because he knows that as soon as his legs give out they'll have to uncuff him. Either way, he doesn't move, but he does moan loud and sweet.

Now that he's touching him, Louis can't seem to stop. He leans forward and kisses around his fingers, nipping and licking until Harry relaxes enough that he can scissor his fingers and actually stretch him open. At some point Louis loses himself a little and lets his tongue slip in beside his fingers, fucking into Harry, but the harsh sound of the chain rattling brings him down to earth. He pulls out his tongue and fingers, hoping he was thorough enough for it to hurt just right, and then gives Harry's arse a backhanded slap for moving.

He doesn't berate him just yet, chooses instead to slide the egg completely into him in one stroke. Harry grunts and his legs quiver, but he stays relatively steady. Louis makes sure there's enough of the small chain still visible before he brings his palm down and smacks him hard, one-two-three times, wiping the excess lube off on his skin and then spanking him again with his clean hand because the sound is addictive and he can always pin it on warming him up. He tugs on the keyring just enough for the tip of the egg to slide out of him, and then he smacks him until it slips right back in.

He stops when his palms start to sting, remembering vividly that that's what they have implements for, that the scene hasn't even started. No one can blame him for wanting to pink up Harry's arse, though. His next move is pulling Harry's briefs back up, but at least he knows the skin is tender and sensitive underneath. He shakes out his hands and stands up, looking over Harry's unsteady and sweaty form. Nothing makes him feel more satisfied than this. "There. Touched you. Happy?" he asks harshly, only to hear Harry's soft _yeah_. "Want more?"

He doesn't specify more of what, but it doesn't seem to matter to Harry, who's whimpering, "Please, _please_."

Louis can't resist that. So he touches Harry, finally, properly, luxuriously, runs his hands all over his cramping muscles, his strong back, his sweaty sides, his heaving chest. He touches every bit of skin he can reach, petting him so sweetly Harry's biceps visibly relax. He kisses each of them, kisses his tattoos while scratching his back, and Harry kind of… loses it. Falls completely into his stance, manages to make chained-to-the-ceiling look comfortable. He's such a graceful, delicate thing when he's like this. Louis knows it's time to hurt him.

So he kisses him. Harry's clearly surprised, lets out a lovely sound and slumps into him so his arms are tugging the chains as much as he can. Louis pushes him back slightly, getting in his space so he can stay upright while licking into his slack mouth and closing his own eyes. He could kiss Harry for hours, _has_ kissed Harry for hours, kissed him good morning and good night and fuck me for two years now. It's not about any of that this time, though, it's about keeping Harry as close as humanly possible while brushing both his hands up his back. Well, brushing is probably the wrong word considering how deep he's sinking his nails in, but he doubts Harry even feels it right now, too caught up in Louis showing him affection after making him wait for so long.

Harry definitely feels it when Louis slaps his upper back, right between his shoulder blades. He falls into Louis, but he was ready for it and manages to keep hitting Harry while supporting part of his weight. He doesn't let up, smacking him hard enough that the only sounds he's hearing are choked out gasps. He only gives him a break to run his hands soothingly over the area and make sure it's as warm as he needs it to be. And also to scratch him, because Harry _whines_. "I want you to breathe for me, sweetheart, deep breaths," he suggests.

Harry only nods, leaning his forehead against Louis's and trying to even his breaths so they're inhaling and exhaling in tandem. He slaps him slower this time, to give him time to concentrate. Louis gets why he's so overwhelmed—Louis only touches his broad, gorgeous back like this before he whips him with a belt, and that only happens once in a blue moon. He's so involved in trying to coordinate his strikes in the most awkward angle imaginable, that he doesn't even notice Harry grinding his hips against him with every exhale.

He steps out of his embrace immediately, so suddenly that Harry stumbles forward and hisses in pain when the chains stretch his arms. Once Louis's sure Harry regained his footing, he walks around to inspect his work. He smiles to himself when he sees his upper back nice and red. His own skin sings in anticipation. "You're so lovely for me. Wish you could see, baby."

Harry bows his head again and takes deep breaths, per Louis's instruction. Louis resists the temptation to pet him again, and just goes over to the bed, finally picking up the flogger. "I'm starting now," he says evenly, and can hear Harry lose his breath all over again.

He starts with his back. He's not swinging at all, just pressing the neck of the handle hard into Harry's sore skin and rubbing it up and down alongside his spine. Harry's mumbling to himself again, but Louis doesn't listen, focuses completely on what he's doing. He covers his whole back slowly, withdrawing the flogger just an inch or so, so he can run the tails over him and really warm him up.

It's slow and sensuous, nothing more than a brush for now. He's doing it even lighter than he scratched him earlier, but Harry reacts ten times as much because he _knows_. He knows the potential, knows how easily it'll turn from a caress to a lashing. It doesn't sound like he _can_ breathe without whimpering or wheezing, and Louis suddenly has to see his face.

He circles around him one more time, brushes the tails over his hipbone, his butterfly tattoo, his _cock_ , so hard it's curving toward his belly. His arms are shaking from the effort of holding himself up, and he's biting his bottom lip so hard it's gone white. Louis hates that. He brings the flogger up, lightly brushing his nipples until he reaches his chin. He hooks the handle under it and pulls his head up. Harry only bites his lip harder, nostrils flaring. " _Stop_ ," Louis instructs, and finally jabs the handle directly against Harry's mouth. "Why don't you give it a kiss?"

Harry doesn't even question it, just puckers up and leans in. Heat curls up in Louis just from watching him being so good, blood rushing to his ears from the sight he makes. He misses it when Harry whispers something into the soft leather strands. "What is it?" Louis asks, drawing the flogger away and nearly gasping himself when Harry tries to follow.

"Please," he repeats, garbled, voice deeper than ever.

"Please what?" Louis asks, just to be safe.

Harry actually blushes, fast as anything, and corrects, "Please, Daddy."

That's not what he meant at all, but he doesn't have it in him to roll his eyes just yet. He resumes stroking Harry with the flogger until he's standing behind him again. "What do you need, darling?"

Harry moves a little then, spreads his legs a little further like he's bracing himself. "Please, make it hurt."

He grins. "Of course. Silly thing."

Harry grabs better hold of the chain. Louis takes a few steps back and gets in a good stance, starting to swing slowly. He's not close to Harry's back yet, just getting himself used to the motion and Harry used to the loud sound. Gradually, he steps closer and closer, until finally the tails make contact with Harry's upper back. Harry doesn't cry out, but Louis hears the chain shifting a little. "Good," Harry sighs when he feels Louis hesitate.

Muscle memory starts to flood his body, and he's gaining confidence as he goes, working with his wrist so his arm doesn't get tired. The cracking sound is as addictive as the smack of his hand on Harry's arse, and he can only stare at the broad expanse of his back getting covered in thin welts. Harry gets louder and louder, squirming where he stands, his muscles twisting beautifully. Louis slows down when he hears him murmuring something, but it only makes Harry whine and—beg for _"More, more, please"_.

 _All right_. Louis takes a deep breath, wipes the sweat off his brow and gets to work. He keeps varying the rhythm, quick and sharp, then gentle and teasing. He hits him with just the tips of the tails so it stings like hell, and then lands them all in a clump so it thuds loudly on his back. Harry takes it so fucking well for a first-timer, unflinching and sure.

There's no use in making Harry keep any sort of count—it's not singular strokes like he delivers with his hands, it's twelve heavy, thick, and stiff tails that start at intense and only get worse. Besides, it's much more satisfying just to hear Harry sniffling and still begging for more. Louis knows how it feels, knows it's not exactly building up, that it's not satisfying for Harry yet. It just makes him want more and more, like the itch keeps getting worse until he'll reach the point when it's _everything_.

Louis slows down to stretch his arm, pulling it distractedly while he inspects Harry. He's a work of art. Not just because of the welts, but because of the way he's shaking uncontrollably, ready to recoil even though Louis stopped swinging. His back is red and twitching and sweaty and so beautiful Louis can't possibly help it.

"Break," he announces, and Harry sighs loudly and lets the cuffs support him more heavily. Louis lays his hand on his upper back and widens his eyes. Jesus, it feels like his skin is on fire. He kisses him firmly between his shoulder blades, and then again when he hears that Harry's sobbing. He has to let go of him to grab his phone and drag the ice box closer, but he's helpless not to give him _something_. "You're perfect, did you know?" he says sweetly, then bites his lip when Harry sniffles harder. "You can take everything I give you, can't you? Do you know how long you've been standing there stretching up? Fucking amazing. Daddy's perfect boy. How do you feel?"

" _Daddy_ ," Harry sobs brokenly, and Louis nearly trips over his own feet when he rushes back to him, phone aimed. He snaps a few pictures of his back, turns up the volume so Harry will know he's doing it, and somehow it makes him even more open, his stance almost _demure_. Exhibitionistic little shit. He turns his phone back off. Nothing happens after that, so Harry must realise he owes Louis an answer. "Amazing, it... it's... yes."

Louis guesses that'll have to do. The sob from earlier is nothing compared to the noise that escapes Harry when Louis scoops up a couple of ice cubes and presses them right onto the most tender spot on his back. He throws his head back and whines like a wounded animal, wriggling hard. Whether he wants to push back or pull away, he's got nowhere to go, legs heavier than stone and chain probably the only thing keeping him up. " _Fuck_ , oh _god_ , fuck fuck—Daddy _please_."

He grabs ice with both hands this time, and slaps them right on Harry's sensitive shoulder blades, rubbing until they melt and drip all along his stretched-out back. He's a shivering, cursing mess, but he stopped struggling, just stands there and takes it. Sensation play is a favourite of Louis's, but he's never thought to combine it with impact play. Now he wonders why they didn't do it sooner—when he presses his palm to Harry's wet back again, it feels hotter than it did when he dripped _wax_ on him. He likes the contrast of that with the ice still chilling his own hand.

"New set," he decides, wiping his hands on his shirt and picking up the flogger. Harry just nods desperately. Louis gives the flogger a good crack to prepare Harry, and he immediately straightens up, like he's trying to broaden his back for Louis to work on. Louis smiles fondly. And then flogs his arse.

He thinks the only thing keeping Harry from screaming is how fast he latched his mouth onto his own bicep. Louis starts out slow, making sure he's got the motion of his wrist right so the tails don't wrap around Harry's thighs or hips in a way Louis can't control. When he gets the hang of it he comes down hard, hitting him for every angle he can.

He keeps looking for signs that it's too much for Harry, since he's at the stage where words are difficult, but so far there's nothing reluctant about him. Just listening to him is beautiful, the way he whimpers when Louis hits across his arse with the length of the tails, the way he cries out when Louis flicks him just with the points. Louis's drunk on that alone, thinks of the millions of people who listen to Harry sing every day but will never hear _this_ music. He's grunting himself with each strike, arms burning. He needs a bit of a break himself, but every time he slows down Harry keeps whining for _more_ , and he can't deny him a fucking thing.

When he does declare a break, he drops the flogger and shakes out his arms hard. He should've stretched before, it's not like he wasn't aware of Harry's unique endurance when it comes to pain. He's even more annoyed with himself when he realises he's forgotten to close the ice box and all the cubes have melted during the set.

Well, not all is lost. Harry looks even more wrecked than he did when Louis worked his back. Louis makes a mental note to remember that Harry favours his arse. He also makes a mental note to keep him for the rest of ever, because Jesus Christ, he looks heavenly, and Louis's only seeing him from behind. Should be worshipped, he thinks, and drops to his knees with a thud.

Harry chokes on a moan just from Louis hooking his fingers under his briefs and pulling them down to his thighs. Thanks to the extra layer his arse isn't as red as it could've been, but it's still hot to the touch, extremely sensitive. With no ice Louis just uses his mouth to soothe him, licking over the soft skin and then breathing on it heavily to cool him down. He pulls back abruptly when he feels something hard under his tongue. Oh god, he's forgotten about the _egg_. No wonder Harry lost it when Louis flogged— _oh_ , now he's got to know what happens when he turns it on.

What happens is that Harry fucking _mewls_ , high-pitched and whiney and so pretty. It's only on the lowest setting but Harry starts swinging his hips, visibly clenching and unclenching. Louis kisses the dip of his lower back and pulls his briefs back on, not bothering to turn the vibrator off before he stands and takes the flogger. "All right, love?"

Harry barely manages more than a weak _nngh_ but he does nod fervently. Louis wants to kiss him again, but he shouldn't throw him off any more than the vibrator is. Harry's whole body thrums with it, sweating hard. He's beautiful, when he lets out another high mewl at the first strike on his arse, when he slumps forward at the first strike on his back, when he cries out as Louis alternates.

He knows Harry's closer to really giving in—he stopped crying for more and started just crying, heaving and swaying and letting Louis manipulate him, barely supporting himself at all. He's completely helpless, and Louis couldn't be more pleased.

They're almost done, he can feel it. With Harry opening himself so much to the pain the tails fall on him harder, dig in deeper, but Louis doesn't want to break skin. He pushes him in other ways. Takes another break only to up the intensity of the vibrator and finally pull his pants down all the way.

"Starting, baby," he warns, but doesn't actually swing for another minute, caught staring at Harry's arse. It's slightly red already, but it's going to look so much better. Red like after a paddling, but in welts, in an _order_ that'll please his eyes. Harry's muscles are all bunched up from the way he's bracing himself, and Louis can't even imagine how tightly he must be clenching around the vibrator. The urge to sink to his knees is threatening to overpower him again—Louis's never easier than he is for a rimjob, but he likes being on the giving side, too, likes pushing Harry down and holding his peachy cheeks and just going for it. Now is definitely not the time, though.

He starts by brushing the tails over Harry's now-bare skin, so his body could get a head start, but it's not the time for that either. He takes a step back and goes for a broad stroke, swinging his whole arm and actually making Harry scream. _Jesus Christ._

He doesn't stop, almost feels like he can't. He flicks him from both sides, catching him right where he wants. He feels like he's possessed, can't even breathe until finally the welts start showing and then he only goes harder. Harry's _writhing,_ his thighs keep spreading and his arse jiggles prettily, sore and oversensitive and probably blazing to the touch. Louis doesn't bother with his back, giving his arse all of his attention.

This is what breaks Harry. It's subtle things, but they've been going for so long that Louis's actively focusing on his reactions. He gets quieter—still loud but like every gasp and cry is being forced out of him every time the flogger touches him, no matter how sharply. "Does it hurt, baby?" Louis asks, just to give him a chance. It takes Harry a few strikes before he actually mumbles some garbled form of _yeah_.

Louis stops twisting his wrist and just strokes Harry slowly, looking up and cursing when he sees how limp Harry's hands are. He drops the flogger and kicks it away, to avoid temptation. No one's ever pushed him like Harry can, sometimes it's... hard to pull back from his intense headspace. Hard not to give Harry more and more and more.

Not wanting Harry to drop from his high, Louis keeps rubbing his hands over his hot arse, squeezing and releasing and making him squirm. He stands on his toes to kiss the back of Harry's neck and ask, "Want more?"

He peppers more kisses all along his back while Harry processes, and then finally, between pained little sobs, "Wanna… Daddy." He stops to breathe in deep. "Wanna feel you."

Louis jolts just at the word "you". He hasn't thought of himself since they started this, totally dedicated and focused on Harry's state. As soon as he does, though, arousal nearly _floors_ him. He feels out of his mind with it, convinced he could rip a hole in his pants from how hard he is. He tugs them down unceremoniously and his cock slaps against his stomach, making himself gasp.

The lube is still on the floor from when Louis fingered Harry earlier, so he slathers it on his cock fast and—Christ, he wants to fuck him, but Harry's too tall like this, stretched so achingly beautiful with his legs— _oh_. Louis rubs some lube on Harry's inner thighs and helps him close his legs, whispering, "Want me to fuck you, darling? Wanna feel my cock? Feel how hard I am because of how good you're being?"

Harry moans like it's ripped right from his throat, vulnerable, and Louis just drapes himself over him and slides his cock between his thighs, right under his arse. It's—god, it's amazing, it's tight and hot and Louis swears he can feel the vibrations from the egg, but it's probably just Harry shivering so hard and flexing his muscles for Louis.

He knows that every time he thrusts forward he connects painfully with Harry's bum and back, that his shirt must be scratching him, but it doesn't sound like he minds. He's so red and shaky and he keeps _whimpering_ , god, he—he's—Louis pulls back just in time to come on Harry's arse, covering the bright bruises, marking and claiming and coming his fucking brains out.

It's like Harry was just waiting. As soon as Louis stops, Harry's legs finally give out, so he's supported only by the cuffs. Louis's on him instantly, pleasure thrown out the window. He holds him up with a firm grip around his waist, and scrounges up his most authoritative tone. "Stand up straight, baby, just for a second."

Harry does, thank god, and Louis uncuffs him quickly. As soon as he's free he collapses on him, hot and heavy. Louis stumbles back but doesn't fall, and after a few steadying breaths, he staggers to the bed and pulls Harry onto it, lays him out on his front. Belatedly, he notices there's come on Harry's stomach, too. _Extremely_ belatedly, he realises that means Harry _came_ all over himself from Louis flogging him raw and streaking his arse with come after.

Harry's a useless lump on the bed, bruised and beaten and blissed-out because of it. Louis feels a surge of pride rise in him, affection clogging up his throat. He lets Harry float for just a minute, while he grabs their soothing lotion and the remote for the vibrator. He didn't think Harry would be tense for a second after he uncuffed him, but when he climbs on the bed and touches his ankle gently, he notices the last of the tension leave his body. Harry just melts into the mattress, completely drained and satisfied. Louis loves him so much he can't stand it.

He's talking faster than he can think, pulling the vibrator out of Harry's arse. "Did so well, better than I could've imagined for your first time. Stood nice and still without me even having to ask. I'd love to hear your voice now, baby. Tell me how you feel?"

He settles on Harry's right and takes his arm gingerly, first rubbing his hand and wrist to start regulating his circulation, and then massaging the whole length of it. Harry's practically purring, with his face pressed into the pillow and his blindfold still mostly secure. "Darling, please talk to me," he tries again, knee-walking over Harry and working on his other arm. "Do you want to see again?"

After being nonsensical for so long, it's kind of shocking to hear Harry mumble, "Yes please."

Louis sighs in relief, and reaches up to untie the headband and slip it off Harry's face. It takes Harry a while to open his eyes, and when he does he just blinks at Louis dopily and Christ, his _face_ , his beautiful face, blotchy and wet from crying so hard, Louis feels like he hasn't seen him in _years_.

He abandons anything else and leans in for a kiss, for two, for twenty, kisses his matted-down hair and his brow and his nose and his hot cheeks and his wobbly lips, all between whispers of praise. Louis feels warm and happy and proud, so full of adoration he doesn't know what to do _but_ kiss Harry senseless. By the time he can bear pulling away, fresh tears are rolling down Harry's face. "Oh, my love, my good boy," he coos, kissing his ear and his neck and his shoulder. "Best I ever had. Only one I _will_ have," he whispers fondly, then moves away again to get the lotion. "Does it still hurt, sweetheart?"

"Yeah," Harry answers, but he sounds completely dreamy so Louis guesses that's not a bad thing. He does clarify, bless him. "Feel good, Daddy."

"Tell me if it's too much," he says, and then starts rubbing the lotion into his aching back. Harry hisses but doesn't tell him to stop, so he trusts him for now and keeps going.

He doesn't get much out of him for the rest of the night. They lie in bed for a long while, Louis whispering about how much he loves him and massaging his aching muscles while Harry sighs happily and beams to himself. Once he's sure the lotion has been absorbed, he runs Harry a bath, doesn't even get in with him to make sure his skin doesn't get any more irritated.

By the time they're bundled up in bed, Harry's dead to the world and Louis can feel exhaustion start tugging on him as well, excitement being reduced to a pain in his arms and the happiest boy alive drooling on his chest.

He kisses Harry's hair, claps the lights out, and sleeps for twelve hours straight.

* * *

 

“ _Please_ , Lou, it’s been so long—“

“It’s been four _days_.”

“—and we’ve got that thing tomorrow, and your mum and the kids are coming to stay for the weekend, and that would make it _more than a week_ , can we _please_ roll the dice tonight?”

Louis sighs as Harry throws his arms around Louis’s neck and nuzzles against his cheek. “You sure I shouldn’t just spank you for being a brat?”

 _Yes_. That means he’s won. Harry kisses Louis’s cheek. “You know I’ll never say no to that, Daddy.”

Louis jolts so hard at the word he almost throws Harry out of his lap. “ _Jesus_ , Harry.” He exhales heavily, and when Harry shifts in his lap, he feels Louis’s dick poking into him a little harder than before. “You can’t just—you know. Use that word _all the time_.”

“Why not, Daddy?” Harry pokes his nose into Louis’s cheek. Louis sighs.

“Fuck you, you _know_ what it does to me.”

“I _like_ what it does to you.” Harry raises an eyebrow. Louis elbows Harry in the ribs and disentangles himself from their conjoined limbs enough to stand up.

“Would you like it if I spanked you and made you wait until my family went home Monday?”

Harry straightens his back a little and pouts. “No.”

“Then stop whining. I’m going to get the dice, just… keep calm.” Louis shakes his head a little as he wanders into the bedroom. He probably doesn't think Harry can hear the _Christ_ he adds under his breath.

Harry bites back a _yes, Daddy_ , even if it’d be slightly less sarcastic this time, because. Well. He really _doesn’t_ want to wait, and pissing Louis off seems like the most likely way that’ll happen. Instead, he sits on on his hands with what he hopes isn’t a shit-eating grin as Louis emerges from the bedroom with the dice in one hand and the (by now crumpled) instruction sheet in the other.

“Budge up.” He kicks out at Harry’s leg and Harry moves over so Louis can flop his legs on top of him, leaning back on the arm of the couch. He holds the dice out to Harry. “You can do the honours.”

Harry surges forward and kisses him briefly before kissing each of the dice and rolling them on the coffee table. The action die lands on _spanking_ and the number die land on one.

Harry pouts. It looks like he's getting spanked after all. Which, okay, far from the worst news he's heard, he was just hoping for something a little— _different_. Last time the dice had gotten him _flogged_. Hand spanking feels like a bit of a downgrade.

Before Harry can even say anything, though, Louis coughs and kicks the table so the dice jump again. This time, the number die lands on one again, but the action die lands on _lingerie_. Harry looks up at Louis and beams a little. They're so in sync, it's hard to remember how they ever lived without each other.

Louis smirks. “Let me guess.” He squints at the instruction sheet. “Yep. One is for panties.”

Harry turns to the dice and frowns. “Is that all it says?” He picks the dice up and rolls them over in his hand. “What, I just—put on panties and you fuck me?”

“Good to know you’ve gotten bored of me fucking you,” Louis says. He digs his socked foot into Harry’s thigh, right near where his dick is just starting to get hard in his pants. “I’ll try to do that less often.”

Harry rests his hand on Louis’s foot and pouts. “That’s not what I meant.”

“No, you _meant_ to be a brat.” Louis swings his legs off Harry’s lap and takes the dice from his hand. “Which means no playtime tonight.”

Harry groans. “But _Daddy_ —“

“Harold,” Louis says sharply. The hair on the back of Harry’s neck stands up, and he goes silent. Louis seems pleased with that. “You can put on your panties tomorrow.”

Harry watches Louis play with the dice in his hand. “But you’ll be at work all day, and then we have that party tomorrow— _oh_.”

“ _Now_ he gets it,” Louis says to the wall, putting a hand to his forehead and sighing in faux-exasperation. “And to think Rolling Stone called you the cleverest songwriter on the radio this decade.”

“ _Perhaps_ the cleverest songwriter on the radio this decade,” Harry says automatically. “Is what they said.”

“Perhaps not, then.” Louis smiles, though, and kisses Harry’s temple. “Yeah, you can wear them while you’re running some errands for me tomorrow, and then to the party. That sound good?”

“ _Really_ good.” Harry smiles. Louis smiles back, against his forehead, and probably thinks Harry doesn’t feel it, but he does. He always does.

“Now that that’s settled,” Louis says, nuzzling into Harry’s hair, “can we put our feet up and watch some Gogglebox, please?”

Harry lets out a _hmmph_. “Not even a little bit of spanking?”

Louis leans back, holds Harry’s chin in his hand while Harry turns out his lower lip. “How could I say no to that face?”

Louis spanks Harry over his knee while Gogglebox is playing, then drags him to bed and fucks him with his legs thrown over Louis’s shoulders. It definitely isn’t boring.

*

When Harry wakes up the next morning, Louis is already gone. Given the month’s worth of sleep Harry is still trying to catch up on and Louis’s inconvenient decision to keep his job instead of becoming Harry’s full-time sugar baby dom, it’s not a particularly uncommon situation, but that doesn’t mean Harry doesn’t pout every time he rolls over and doesn’t find a warm body to keep him from rolling off the side of the bed.

Today, though, he finds something waiting for him on Louis’s side of the bed. The little black box is no substitute for a cute boyfriend to cuddle, true, but Harry has a feeling he’s going to like what’s inside.

He’s not disappointed when he rips the box open to see a pair of pink lacy panties folded neatly inside, with a note folded on top of them. Harry picks up the panties with one hand, smiling as he feels how smooth they are over his fingers, and opens the note with his other hand.

_been saving these for a special occasion… text me a photo when you’re up xo L_

Harry spends another minute smiling widely down at the panties, turning them over in his hands. The lace is delicate and silky, and the colour stands out vibrantly against Harry’s pale skin. There’s not much to them—just a waistband and a crotch that will _maybe_ contain his soft cock, absolutely nothing to cover up his cheeks. Harry rolls out of bed as fast as he ever has, shrugs off his shorts and pulls them up over his legs in front of the full-length mirror, slowly, enjoying the feeling of them over his thighs, his hole clenching a little as he settles the lace in the dip between his cheeks and adjusts his cock so that it’s mostly covered by the lace (even soft, it won’t all quite fit, but he thinks when he’s hard he’ll be able to tuck himself into the waistband). He turns around and looks at himself in the mirror for a few minutes. He _loves_ the way he looks in them, the way they accentuate his arse and the laurel tattoos on his hips. For a gay man, Louis’s shockingly adept at picking out lingerie.

(Harry’s maybe pried a little bit into where he picked up that skill in the past, but Louis’s reluctant to talk about it. He’s reluctant to talk about most of his past partners, which Harry is grateful for, in an abstract way—he’s not keen on having the names of all the people Louis’s flogged before him running through his mind next time Louis chains him to the ceiling—but sometimes the easy confidence with which Louis doms him makes him wonder if Louis’s ever felt as tiny and overwhelmed in the face of all of this as Harry still feels sometimes, if there’s ever been anyone Louis was nervous to ask to dress up for him. It wouldn’t change anything, really—it certainly wouldn’t change the thrill Harry gets when Louis gives him pretty things, perfect moments where Harry can be everything Louis asks him to be—but sometimes, Harry just wants to know.)

Harry doesn’t wait long before he picks up his phone and spends way too much time choosing a filter while perking up his bum in the mirror.

  
([x](https://40.media.tumblr.com/39e08aa2ba45be9f2f7d3b89063693f5/tumblr_nqeaj4eKG91uxvan6o7_r1_540.png))

Harry isn’t embarrassed, but he still blushes a little when he turns to face the mirror, giving a little wave as he snaps a photo of himself, his cock perked up enough with interest that it’s just peeking over the waistband.

_L: guess you don’t like them THAT much_

Harry looks down at his cock and pouts.

_H: :(( I really really do_

_L: show me then_

Harry takes that as permission to touch, so he sinks down onto the bed and lies back against the cool sheets. He lets his hands wander over his chest, tracing the lines of his tattoos, pinching his nipples, imagining Louis sitting at work admiring Harry’s arse, Louis going to a store and sorting through piles of pretty frilly things before picking out these panties that suit Harry perfectly, Louis waiting for Harry to send him another picture, to see if he’s good—fuck, before Louis, Harry used to have the most outlandish fantasies while he was getting off, fantasies he couldn’t even think about in public without his face going red, fantasies about being choked and pushed around and fucked so hard he couldn’t remember his name, and now that those fantasies are never more than a few conversations and a shopping trip away from becoming reality, all it takes to get him off is thoughts of Louis’s cheeky grin and his deft hands and his scruff scratching against Harry’s lips and thighs. He’s hard before he knows it, stretching to get a selfie that contains both his panty-clad cock and his sad face.

_H: miss u daddy_

_L: I see that_

A few seconds later, Louis sends him a selfie with his lips puckered up for a kiss. Harry wants nothing more than to drive straight to The Craic and plant one on him, but worktime visits have been strictly banned since the sixth time Niall walked in on Harry and Louis in a position he called _compromising for business_ and Harry called _bloody brilliant_. A lot changed when Louis took over the shop, obviously, but he still couldn't fuck Harry and help customers at the same time. Or so he claimed. Harry hasn't quite given up on trying that yet. Louis does keep saying he needs another pair of hands around the shop—Harry supports all Louis's business decisions, obviously, but he supports the ones that could get him fucked in semi-public places most of all.

_L: think you can do something for me?_

Harry drags his eyes away from Louis’s lips and thumbs over the head of his cock while he types out a reply.

_H: does it involve coming?_

_L: what do you think?_

Harry sighs and drops his hand from his cock. Getting off isn’t even fun anymore without Louis’s permission. Harry’s changed a lot in the past two years.

_H: anything you want x_

_L: we’re out of milk, could you run to tesco and get some? Also some of that cheese fizz liked last time xxx_

_H: you get me all prettied up just to go out shopping? :(((((((_

_L: you’re always pretty my darling sugar baby xxxxxxxxx_

_L: fajita fixings too, try not to let the fans see how hard you are for me, ta love_

Louis goes offline and Harry frowns down at his cock again. There should probably be some sort of difference between when Louis teases him in the bedroom and when Louis’s just outright teasing him, but that doesn’t keep his cock from fattening and his stomach from dropping a little as he thinks of Louis spoiling him with pretty things like a sugar baby. Because, well. Even if Harry’s the rich one, Louis _does_ spoil him, and so Harry’s happy to do him little favours. He just prefers it when they involve more taking off clothes than putting them on.

When Harry gets dressed, though, and realises the waistband of the panties is higher than any of his low-hung jeans, the idea of running out to Tesco doesn’t seem quite as boring. His cock doesn’t soften as he gets in the car and drives, constantly checking to see if he’s being followed by paps. His shirt is long enough that as he wanders around in the aisles at Tesco, he doesn’t _think_ he could be arrested for public indecency, but it’s hard to tell if there’s anything out of the ordinary about the sidelong glances people are giving him, or if it’s just his paranoia that he forgot to check for panty lines before he left the house.

After he’s picked up everything he needs, he goes to his phone to ask Louis if they need anything else, only to find Louis’s texted him since last he checked.

_L: don’t forget lube x_

Harry blushes a little, his mind automatically reeling to the conversation he’d had with his PR team about coming out. _It’s all right to talk about your boyfriend, when it’s brought up, but we don’t want you spotted buying lube and condoms all over England._

_H: we literally have gallons of lube at home from when you were writing those reviews_

_L: not in travel size xx_

Harry’s pretty sure that half the reason Louis started working at a sex shop in the first place was the endless supply of free lube, but the back of his neck prickles a bit, like it always does when Louis asks him to do something that puts him at the edge of his comfort zone, and so he finds himself tossing a travel-size bottle of lube into his basket before trudging up to the check-out.

The old woman ringing him up doesn’t look like the type to sell out his preferred brand to the tabloids, but Harry feels exposed anyway, shifting his weight from leg to leg with his panties rubbing against him, his shirt barely covering his resultant hard-on, and his skinnies that may or may not be exposing the intimate details of his situation. A gaggle of teenage girls comes into the store, and Harry swoops out as soon as he’s done being rung up, with none of his usual courteous chatter with the employees, ducking his head down and pulling out of the parking lot so quickly he almost hits a mother pushing a pram. He has to stop and apologise a half-dozen times before he can get in the car and speed away again.

When he’s finally safely pulled into their drive, he pulls out his phone and texts Louis, squeezing his dick through his jeans in relief.

_H: got it_

_L: thanks babe, have a good day, want you to tease yourself for an hour before you leave for the thing, yeah? Text me when you’re heading out x_

_H: that’s all? No special sexy instructions? :((((_

_L: those are for tonight, love xxx_

_*_

Harry’s been coming to these music industry schmooze fests since before he even met Louis, so he can’t _really_ complain to Louis about leaving Harry to sort through this mob of people alone when they’re _Harry’s_ friends, mostly.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t. It’s been two hours since he arrived at the private club, two hours since Louis texted him with apologies about running late, and an hour and a half since he shimmied out of his jeans in the bathroom at Louis’s instruction and shoved his damp panties into his pocket, ready to hand them off to Louis at his say-so.

It’s been so long that Harry’s not even embarrassed about free-balling it anymore, his erection having gone down some time ago, even as he keeps texting Louis impatiently asking when he’s going to arrive. Louis keeps answering with a cryptic _soon_ , and Harry sends him selfie after pouting selfie, even though the lighting in the club makes him look like a red blob. He does get around to talking to everyone he needs to be seen with, though, touching the lump of the panties in his pocket nervously as he’s introduced to David Beckham for the third time (they laugh at how many mutual friends they have in spite of the vastly different worlds they live in, and Harry mentions for the third time that his boyfriend’s a huge fan). Harry’s moved on to making small talk with the photography team that did his last cover shoot when someone taps him on the shoulder.

“Isn’t that your boy toy, Harry?”

Harry smiles to himself at the phrase—if anything, he's Louis's boy toy, though that isn't something he necessarily needs to announce to his industry acquaintances. He whips his head around, though, and sees Louis working his way through the crowd towards him. He grins, and goes to meet him at a half-run, wrapping his arms around him like he hasn’t seen him in months rather than hours (and, with what he hopes is subtlety, slipping his panties into his back pocket).

“Hi,” Harry mutters into Louis’s ear. Louis kisses him on the cheek.

“Hi, baby.” He beams at Harry like he’s never seen anything as bright in the world. “Did good for me today.” Harry buries his face into his neck again because he’s more worried about the obscenity of his smile than the possibility of someone seeing lacy knickers poking out of Louis’s pocket.

After hugging a minute or so longer than is probably socially acceptable, Harry drags Louis back over to the photography crew and makes some quick introductions. When he uses the word _boyfriend,_ Louis starts practically glowing, rubbing his hand up and down Harry’s back. It’s been over a year since Harry came out, but what with the fight Harry had to have with his PR team about it, neither of them take these things for granted.

“Lovely to meet you all,” Louis says with an easy grin, nodding at the assembled group. “Would you excuse us for a moment, though?” Louis’s thumb digs into Harry’s lower back. Harry ducks his head down and is suddenly very aware of his nakedness under his jeans. “There’s something I need to catch H up on.”

There’s a round of murmured assent, then Louis is guiding Harry with the hand on his back away from the group, without another word. He’s not quite _manhandling_ Harry—and even if he were, Harry could duck out of his grip easily—but Harry still gets a little fuzzy-headed as he glances up at the people watching Louis lead him around so easily. When they’re near the back entrance, he wonders if Louis’s going to take him out to his car and fuck him, if that’s why he wanted him naked under his skinnies and ready to go. Harry shivers and reaches down to adjust his stirring cock in his jeans, but Louis tuts in his ear and Harry drops his hand.

At the last moment, Louis steers them away from the back entrance, into the men’s bathroom. _Fuck_ , it might not be car sex, but Harry’s never been opposed to a bathroom blowjob. (Or rimjob. Or fuck. Harry’s always been easy for Louis, the possibility that David Beckham could walk in on them while he’s going for a wee doesn’t change that in the slightest.)

Louis pushes him the last few inches into the disabled toilet, and Harry stumbles a little—otherwise he’d be on his knees already by the time Louis clicks the stall door shut.

“Bend over.”

Louis’s voice isn’t quite rough, but it has that insistent tone that Harry associates with fuzzy-headedness and floating. “Yes, Daddy,” Harry says quietly, more for his own sake than Louis’s, and braces his forearms against the wall as he arches his back and sticks his arse out for Louis. There isn’t much room in the cramped stall, but Louis manages to squeeze behind Harry and smack his arse a few times, sending Harry tripping further and further into his headspace with the slight, not-quite-enough thuds, before he pulls Harry’s jeans down to his thighs roughly.

“You did good for me today.” Louis wraps his hand around Harry’s half-hard cock and tugs a few times. “Gonna keep being good?”

Harry keens and starts getting hard so fast he feels lightheaded. “Mhmmm.” He spreads his legs out as far as he can, with his jeans still up around his thighs, and pushes his arse out farther, chest parallel to the floor. “Please, Daddy, please.”

Louis laughs and gives Harry one hard spank, startling him forward so he knocks his head against the wall. “Do you even know what you’re begging for?”

Harry whines high in his throat as Louis nudges a dry finger at his rim. Harry hasn’t had anything inside him _all day_ and while part of him still likes to believe he can be a functioning adult without getting his boyfriend’s cock in him every eight hours, it’s not every day he goes around wearing lacy knickers that rub him in all the right places, either, so sue him if he pushes back against Louis dry, even if it makes Louis tut.

“This isn’t about hurting you, baby,” Louis says. There’s a ripping sound and then Louis’s hand is back on him, this time slick with cool lube, and Harry whimpers loudly ( _anyone_ could walk in and hear them like this). “It’s about you doing everything I say, hmm?”

“Daddy.” Harry pushes his forehead against the wall and grunts, trying to keep his breathing steady as Louis scissors two fingers inside him, just barely missing his spot. “Yeah, I—anything, please.”

“That’s my boy.” Louis pulls his fingers out of him. “Trousers off.” Harry nods wordlessly into the wall, gritting his teeth as his walls clench down around nothing and Louis shimmies his jeans down to his ankles. The heels of his boots click loudly against the floor as he steps out of them, then bends over again and bites his lip as Louis trails his fingertips over the bare skin of his thigh. Something hard and plastic takes the place of Louis’s fingers against his rim and Harry’s breath stutters. He pushes his hips back against the plug until his rim closes around the flared base, then lets out a little moan as his cock bounces against his thigh that seems to echo through the empty bathroom.

“Got you another present while you were away,” Louis says, and Harry just keeps nodding because the plug isn’t Louis but it still feels _so good_ inside him, it feels _so good_ to be bare and open and _full_ for Louis like this. “Not that you really need another plug—“ Harry gasps as Louis flicks at the base nestled between his arse cheeks. “—but this one is quite special to me.” Louis bends down and plants a kiss on the base of the plug and Harry’s fist slams against the wall as he tries not to push back against Louis’s face while Louis bites his left cheek roughly.

“Step.”

Harry blinks in confusion for a minute, then looks down and realises Louis’s holding the panties out next to his feet, ready for him to step into them. Harry’s thighs shake with the effort not to get them caught on his boots as he steps into the lace. Louis pulls them up slowly, kissing the plug inside him once more before pulling the panties up over it. It feels like it’s been forever since the delicate waistband was hugging the curve of Harry’s hips. His cock pokes out of the top of the lace obscenely, and Harry can’t keep himself from staring at it and moaning a little as Louis starts petting over the lace on his arse.

“Want you to get yourself presentable,” Louis says, running his thumb along the outline of Harry’s knickers, “then come back out and find me, make nice with all your pop star friends. Can you do that?”

Harry doesn’t shift from his bent over position, but he nods. Louis kisses the back of his head and rests a hand on his shoulder.

“Hope it won’t be too difficult to focus,” Louis muses, and all of a sudden—Louis’s not even _touching_ the plug but all of a sudden it’s _vibrating_ inside him, feels like it’s filling him up even _more_. Harry’s back arches, the plug shifts inside him so it’s rubbing up against his spot and Harry practically _cries_ with the pleasure, so sudden and unexpected—and then it stops.

“Think you can do it for Daddy?” Louis whispers in Harry’s ear, and that’s when Harry sees the little pink remote control strung onto the key ring in Louis’s hand. Jesus, Louis could make Harry come without even _touching_ him, in front of half the people he works with.

Harry catches Louis’s eye and knows this is the point where he could say no, it’s too much, and Louis wouldn’t be angry, wouldn’t think twice before taking the plug out and kissing him thoroughly, maybe pulling him off to a quick orgasm here and probably giving him a thorough spanking later, not because he’d really be cross, but because Harry always needs closure when he feels like there’s something he can’t do for Louis.

The fact that Louis _gets_ that is why Harry nods and chokes out a _yeah, can_ as Louis flicks the vibrator on and off again quickly a few times in a row. Louis kisses the back of his head again and then walks out abruptly, leaving Harry with his jeans on the floor and his cock threatening to seep even more pre-come all over his pretty panties.

When Harry re-enters the party, he’s suddenly _exceedingly_ glad Louis was so late, giving him time to make the necessary rounds without him, because between the plug in his arse and the panties rubbing up smoothly against his cock, he’s already feeling like he’s flirting with the edges of the place Louis doesn’t like him to go in public, the deep psychological subspace where he’ll do things like get on all fours so Louis will have a place to rest his feet. That’s part of the fun, when they play like this—the risk that it could go too far, the way Harry almost entirely hands over the responsibility to make sure it doesn’t to Louis. When someone calls out his name over the music, Harry pretends he doesn’t hear them, instead keeping his eyes peeled for Louis.

The second he and Louis make eye contact, the plug turns on. Harry stumbles over to the group of people Louis is standing with, smiling at them wanly as he squeezes Louis’s arm tightly, doing his best not to turn and start to rut against him as the vibrations seem to float through his whole body. Louis glances at his face and then the buzz inside Harry stops, letting him focus on giving a real greeting to the people around them.

Louis’s fallen in with James Corden and a few of his friends, who Harry and Louis have met together a couple times, though Harry was heavily intoxicated most of those times and so barely remembers their names or what they do. As long as they keep up the mindless chatter and don’t mention his occasional hitches of breath as Louis keeps playing with the switch of the remote control in his pocket, Harry figures he likes them well enough.

Except the woman on his right who seems to be paying more attention to him than anyone else. He’s not the biggest fan of her.

“Is it good to be back from tour, Harry?”

All eyes turn to Harry. Harry nods without really knowing what’s been said, all of his attention fixed on Louis playing with his key ring, the remote that has the power to make him come in front of all these people jostling between the keys to the post box and the car.

“‘Course, he missed me like mad, didn’t you, Harry?” Louis smirks at Harry while putting the keys back in his pocket. Harry swallows, gives a wan smile to the group, and turns to the woman who asked the question (he knows her name, he _does_ , it’s just… not at the forefront of his mind, presently).

“Yeah,” the deepness of Harry’s voice surprises even him, “yeah, I’m—it’s nice to be home for a bit.”

“I heard you got some new tattoos on the road,” the woman says, glancing down at his hips and wiggling her eyebrows. Harry stops trying to remember her name and wishes more than anything that they had never met (whenever it was that they had met), as now there are at least half a dozen people staring at his crotch area and there’s absolutely _no_ way they don’t see that he’s hard, and the way he’s tucked his cock into his waistband probably only makes it obvious he has been for a while, _fuck_ , Harry’s ears are going red, Louis looks like he’s never been so delighted in his life and all Harry wants is to push him down and straddle him right there.

“Er.” Harry’s attention is drawn once again on Louis’s hands, fiddling in his pocket, and he looks up with big eyes that he hopes say _please please please_. Louis gestures his head back to the woman who asked the question, and doesn’t turn on the plug. Harry isn’t sure if he’s grateful. He turns back to the invasive questioner. “Yeah, you, er, you know me, always getting new tattoos.”

“He’d let just about anyone stick it in him,” Louis says, with a wicked smirk. Harry looks down at his feet but still catches James raising an eyebrow at Louis. Harry hates James Corden. “Needles,” Louis clarifies. “Think he gets off on the pain. Should I feel threatened, you think?”

The group titters with laughter. Harry’s face is so, _so_ red, he doubts anyone can see how red he is under these lights but Louis _knows_ , he always knows, that’s why he’s grinning so absolutely wickedly. (Harry is also so fucking hard it hurts, which probably his mother can see halfway across the country, _Christ_ , but that’s the least of his problems when—)

“Let’s have a look, then!” Harry can’t even remember this woman’s _name_ but apparently she’s comfortable enough to reach out and lift his shirt up a bit, what the _fuck_ , Harry _needs_ higher standards for the people he spends time with. He moves to block her so quickly that he knocks the drink out of her hand.

There’s a clattering sound as the plastic meets the floor and a series of little gasps, but all Harry hears is, “Rude of you, H, why don’t you pick that up?”

Harry’s eyes dart back up to Louis, who’s gesturing towards the mess of iced yellow drink on the floor. Everyone else in the room seems so _dim_ , next to Louis, and Harry remembers, in a sort of far-off way, that he cares about them, too, but it’s not anywhere _near_ as much as he cares for Louis, so he bends over to pick up the cup and then—

“ _Christ_ , Styles, are you wearing—“

“A bet,” Harry says, standing up quickly and shoving the plastic cup into Invasive Questioner’s hand. “I. Lou and I made a bet on the footie this weekend and I lost.” It feels like the most coherent sentence he’s strung together all night, which he personally considers quite impressive, considering he’s just given a handful of people he barely knows (and James Bloody Corden, who from now on he’s resolved to hate) an eyeful of his arse in women’s knickers.

James laughs loudly. “No wonder you’re so—“ He waves his hand around and the whole group laughs like that makes any sense. Harry looks at Louis, his face burning as he wonders if he’s done wrong, but Louis looks more pleased than anything.

“Do they ride up, then, Harry?” Invasive Questioner asks, taking a step closer to him again. She looks down at his cock straining his jeans and says, “Maybe you need a bigger size.”

“Well, now that your secret’s out, babe,” Louis says, and Harry doesn’t even flinch as the woman jostles his elbow, not while all of his attention is on Louis, “no reason not to give them a peek of your new ink.”

Harry clenches hard around the plug in his arse when he sees Louis reach into his pocket, and if it were _physically possible_ for him to be _any_ harder, he’d swear he feels his dick twitch. He feels hotter than the time Louis poured hot wax down his back as he picks up the bottom of his shirt and lifts it, enough so that the group of people huddled around them can see the ferns inked into his hips, the lacy pink tops of his panties in sharp relief against the black waistband of his jeans, and the full outline of his cock curved hard against his stomach under the thin black denim.

“Bloody hell,” one of the men Harry’s name doesn’t know mutters, and as Harry opens his mouth to say something—defend himself, maybe, or laugh it off—Louis turns on the vibrator.

Harry drops his shirt and hopes his gasp is masked by the background music. The plug is nestled right against his spot, and every second it keeps buzzing Harry feels like he’s climbing into heaven, like he’s getting to a point where it won’t be possible for him to feel _any more good_. He’s not sure if they’re still talking about him—the plug is hitting him so deep he can feel it in his _ears_ —but he turns and steps into Louis so close he almost knocks them both over. Louis puts a hand on his chest and offers up his ear. All Harry wants is to nuzzle into his neck and _come_.

“I’m gonna—“ Louis flips up the intensity of the vibrations and Harry _very_ nearly loses it right then, his eyes rolling into the back of his head for a moment as his arse clenches and his knees shake, but he doesn’t rub up against Louis and he doesn’t come because he’s a good boy, he _is_ , but— “I’m so, I’m close, if you—“

Louis pinches the hardened nub of Harry’s nipple and Harry almost loses it again, actually moaning and canting his hips forward, though he doesn’t make contact, but he doesn’t even _care_ that all the people behind him could see him rut up desperately against Louis, doesn’t care that they’re probably looking for panty lines along his arse, or that if he shifts the wrong way they might find the outline of the plug holding him open for Louis instead, doesn’t care about _anything_ except that Louis whispers _go to the loo_ in his ear and pats his arse without turning off the plug.

Harry doesn’t even turn to make apologies before he’s hurtling off in the direction of the toilet—he thinks he hears Louis say something about him not feeling well all day, but even Louis’s voice can’t cut through the fuzziness in his head as he pushes his way through clumps of people with nothing but Louis’s voice, his firm, certain _command_ , _go to the loo_ , running through his mind on repeat. He’s not sure if he gets out of range of the remote after a while or if Louis just turns off the vibrations, but when Harry bursts out of breath into the bathroom, the plug is uncomfortably still and full inside him and the only buzzing is coming from his phone in his pocket.

Harry looks up at himself in the mirror as he tries to dig his phone out of his pocket, his clumsy hands dropping it on the floor while he takes in the sight of his flushed cheeks, his sweaty brow, and bitten-red lips in the mirror. When he bends down to pick up the phone, the plug shifts and his cock slides again over the silky smooth panties and if he didn’t know that Louis would be texting him, telling him what to do, Harry would probably just collapse on the bathroom floor and come right there.

_L: in a stall, on your knees_

_L: fuck yourself on your plug and show me_

_L: don’t touch your cock and don’t come_

Harry stumbles into the handicapped stall from earlier and sinks to his knees, any worry about the cleanliness of the bathroom lost as he leans his head against the cool tile wall and pulls his jeans down quickly to his thighs, groaning at the friction of the denim over his lace-covered cock. He arches his back, pushes his arse out, and fumbles to get a handle on the flared base of the plug through the panties. The lace makes it hard to grip so he pushes them out of the way, groaning a little as his fingers brush his flushed cheeks and he finally thrusts the plug into him, gets some of the friction inside him he’s been dying for since this morning.

He works himself up to a half-decent rhythm, though it’s hard in the cramped space, with the awkward angle he has to keep himself at to reach the plug. When he feels himself start to get close again, he moans loudly (Did he check if anyone else was in here? Would he notice them if they were, at this point?), slows down so that the plug is angled away from his prostate, and opens a video message on his camera app with trembling fingers. It takes him a few tries to get a nice shot of himself working the plug inside him, the panties pulled tight across his arse, and he almost collapses against the wall when he finally sends it and sets his phone down in front of him, so he can watch for new messages while he gets his fingers back to fucking himself on the plug and watches his cock leak pre-come onto his knickers.

Harry hopes Louis won’t make him ruin these panties. The pink lace is quite lovely framing his cock, and he’s grown rather attached. On the other hand, he also hopes Louis _will_ make him ruin them, tell him to come in his pants and have him say his goodbyes with a wet spot on his jeans, smelling like sex, smiley and sated and so, so good for Louis, his good boy.

He waits for Louis’s text to come. And waits, and waits. The longer he waits, the more sure he is that Louis’s testing him, making sure he’s being good, not making himself come before Louis tells him, and that just makes Harry fuck himself harder, hitting his head against the wall a few times with the enthusiasm of his thrusts as he pants loudly and fucks up into air, relishing the way the lace feels against his skin just as much as the pressure against his spot driving him up the wall. He thinks about Louis standing out there, surrounded by celebrities, by Harry’s _friends_ , sipping his beer and watching the video Harry sent him over and over, maybe cupping his hand around his phone so no one will see, or maybe—maybe _not_. That’s the thought that has Harry letting out a sharp groan just as the bathroom door swings open loudly.

Harry’s breath hitches and for a moment he goes completely still. It’s not Louis. Harry would know Louis by his gait anywhere, and the heavy boots on the tiled floor _definitely_ aren’t his. Whoever it is must stop by the urinal, because there’s the sound of pants being unzipped and then the tinkle of piss.

Harry’s still frozen, lips parted in a silent whimper, when his phone buzzes loudly against the floor.

_L: guess who I’m talking to_

The person taking a piss pauses for a minute before zipping himself back up, like— _fuck_ , like he might be wondering where the sound came from, and that’s what gets Harry fucking himself again, thrusting back shallowly against the plug, the idea of being _found_ like this, _found_ splayed out on the floor, sweating through his shirt, waiting for Louis’s instructions— _fuck._ Whoever it is doesn’t stop to actually look, or even wash his hands—the boots retreat and the door swings shut again just as Harry’s phone buzzes again and he lets himself gasp as he bucks his hips so hard the tip of his cock, still encased in lace, brushes against the wall.

Another message. Harry breathes hard as he looks down, thinking that he might not even need to touch his cock if Louis just, if he just said the _word_ , but that’s not what Louis says.

The first message is a picture of Louis, making a stupid face and pointing to whomever he’s standing next to with raised eyebrows.

_L: becks is asking about you… think I should show him what you’re up to?_

Harry moans loudly again, pressing his cheek up against the wall as he twists the plug inside himself and imagines Louis showing him off, like a kept boy, to—Harry ducks his head down to look at the picture again— _David fucking Beckham_ , Louis’s childhood (hell, his _current_ ) hero, Louis is meeting his childhood hero while Harry’s on his knees trying not to rut against the wall in his wet panties like a fucking _animal_.

_L: still there, love? Or have you given up and come already?_

Harry whines out loud and shakes his head, flexing his shoulders as he switches the hand he’s fucking himself with. He types out his response with his pinky finger, the only one not sticky from lube, as he gets a grip on the plug with his other hands and tries to work himself up into a rhythm again.

_H: didn’t come, daddy_

(He gasps a little after _da_ as he finds his prostate again, but his phone autocompletes _daddy_ for him. He is so fucking gone for Louis, he even amazes himself with it sometimes.)

_L: hands off the plug, jerk yourself off through your panties_

Harry’s hands move quickly, the panties snapping back to cover his stretched-out hole again as he drops the plug and get his hand on his cock, _finally_. He can’t really get a good grip, without releasing it from the lace, but even just his fingers along the shaft, his thumb against the sticky wet tip, is _so much_ , it’s been so long, and he’s been good for Louis, he knows he has, and that’s how he knows he can come like this, he _will_ come like this, if Louis just says the word—

_L: stop_

For a fraction of a second Harry isn’t sure he _can_ , feels like his hand is bound to his cock by a force greater than himself, but then he takes a few deep breaths and remembers it’s _Louis_ , his _daddy_ , and his hand falls loosely to his side. A few seconds later, Louis messages him again.

_L: plug out, stuff the panties inside you, come back here and put the plug in my jacket pocket_

_L: use lube, send me a pic with the lace hanging out of your pretty bum x_

Louis isn’t going to let him come.

 _Fuck_.

Harry’s whole body shakes as he gets to his feet, stumbling and nearly dropping his phone in the toilet in the process. He steps out of his jeans again, struggling to drag the legs over the heels of his boots, and leans with his forearms against the wall for a minute, so exhausted and on edge he doesn’t even care that anyone who walks in would see his jeans lying on the floor and know he’s half-naked inside. He doesn’t care about coming, either, anymore, even though his cock is clearly still thinking about it, blurting another bit of pre-come as he drags the panties down and over it one last time. All Harry wants is Louis, Louis’s reassuring hand on his back, Louis’s kiss on his cheek, Louis’s whispers in his ear. He takes several deep breaths and winces as his cock bobs almost painfully when he bends down to get the lube out of his pocket.

That’s when he realises he doesn’t have as many free hands as he thought. Not wanting to shove the sticky panties against the wall, he puts a corner of the lace into his mouth and bites down. He closes his eyes and tries not to think of how he must look right now, bent over half-naked in a public bathroom with dirty panties in his mouth, dribbling lube over his fingers and pulling a thick pink plug out of his arse, because if he starts thinking about being found like this again—about _Louis_ coming to find him, to _claim_ him like this—he’ll come, he will, he knows. He tries to focus on saving enough lube to push the panties into the plug’s place—they’d used too much, the only other time they’d tried this, Louis pouring out a quarter of a bottle to make sure Harry wouldn’t get scratched on the inside—and _that’s_ not a safe avenue of thought, either. He whimpers into his fist and feels close _again_ just from the memory of Louis’s face as he tugged Harry’s black satin thong out of his arse slowly, licked around his wet rim, then shoved them back inside him.

Once the plug is out, Harry starts to clench uncontrollably around nothing. Careful to keep the wet plastic in his fist from touching the wall (probably the whole point of this is that it’s so, so _dirty_ , but that doesn’t mean Harry can’t try), he sucks the panties into his mouth briefly to get them wet, moaning a little at the taste of pre-come and the fleeting feeling of _fullness_ before he pours the rest of the lube over the panties and starts to push them past his rim.

It isn’t quite like a plug, or a cock, or anything else Harry’s ever had inside him, but when he pulls his fingers out of his arse, it’s nice to have _something_ there, even if he can’t quite bear down on them like something solid. He pushes until all but the very edge of the lace is settled inside him. Then he fumbles for his phone, wincing a little as he smudges lube on the screen. He tucks his chin against his chest and thrusts his arse out a little to take a photo for Louis.

Not thirty seconds after he sends it, Louis replies.

_L: becks says hi, don’t even think about trying to tuck your cock away again_

Just as Harry picks his jeans up off the ground, the bathroom door swings open again. Harry doesn’t move an inch while the intruder takes a piss. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to keep his breathing shallow, trying not to focus on the weight of his cock (not going down even a little, _why_ does he get _off_ on these things) heavy between his legs, no longer bound up in silky fabric. As soon as the mystery pisser leaves, Harry steps into his trousers carefully, inhaling sharply when they jostle the lace sticking out of his arse while he pulls them up around his bum. He leaves his cock against his left thigh and chokes a little as he narrowly avoids catching it in his zipper. He steps out of the stall, then hesitates for a moment before deciding to rinse off the plug and his hands quickly, constantly looking over his shoulder to see if anyone’s coming, then wipes the plug dry with the end of his shirt and pulls his sleeve down over it in his hand.

When Harry comes up behind Louis and wraps his arms around his waist, James Corden lets out an audible _awwwww_. They are quite cute, Harry thinks, even as he’s slipping a recently-used butt plug into Louis’s pocket and pushing his hard-on up against his arse. He breathes harshly against Louis’s neck for a minute, giving weak smiles to little circle of people surrounding them.

“Just missed Becks, Harry,” James says, “he went off to the loo.”

Does that mean—oh _god_. “Next time,” Harry says, voice sounding so low and garbled that if he listened to himself, he might think he’d just been sucking someone off in the loo. Louis puts a hand over Harry’s on his stomach.

“Feeling any better, love?” Louis rubs his thumb over Harry’s wrist and Harry shakes his head slightly. He risks stepping a little closer to Louis, so that his cock is really digging into his arse, but Louis doesn’t seem to mind.

“Think we should be off, then, if Hazza’s not feeling well.”

Thank _god_ , Harry almost says out loud. The woman whose drink he spilled earlier is nodding, saying _you look like death_ , and is met with murmured agreement, but Harry doesn’t focus on anything but the friction as Louis turns around in his arms, tilting his head up a little and smirking at him.

“Go out back to my car,” Louis says, loud enough for the others to hear, “and I’ll grab your jacket, hmm?”

Harry nods. Louis smiles and pats his arse, then leans in and whispers in his ear, “Trousers off,” and pinches his nipple roughly. Harry closes his eyes and nods again, more quickly. Louis chuckles loudly enough to mask the sound of Harry’s whimper, but if anyone were paying attention, they’d probably be able to read it on his face. Harry doesn’t stick around long enough to find out, kissing Louis on the cheek, mumbling _sorry_ , and rushing away without making eye contact with anyone.

Harry’s cheeks go impossibly redder as he weaves his way between the little clumps of aimlessly chattering executives and the minor celebrities trying to make an impression. He’s probably never had an erection this obvious in his _life_ , the outline of his cock straining against his skinny jeans leaving basically nothing to the imagination, and he isn’t sure whether no one has noticed or if they’re just averting their eyes. For once, no one stops and asks him for a photo. He wonders if he’s glad about that.

One thing he’s sure that he’s glad about is that Louis didn’t use the valet parking, finding a space in the small back lot of the club. There might be something symbolic in that, about how even as seamlessly as Louis fits into Harry’s occasionally glamorous life, he also keeps him grounded in the reality where not everyone has five cars in addition to a private car service. That’s one of the things he loves most about Louis, Harry thinks. The car service is bloody convenient, sure, but Louis's car is like home.

On the other hand, Louis may have just known that he was going to have Harry half-naked and squirming in his passenger’s seat by the end of the night. That’s another one of the things Harry loves most about Louis. Always prepared. Harry takes a good look around the car park, and seeing no one there, undoes the top button of his jeans before he slips into the passenger’s seat.

Shucking off his jeans is easier than Harry imagined it would be, in the cramped space. Maybe it’s just that he doesn’t care how his knees bump into the dashboard in his haste to do what Louis asked. His cock certainly doesn’t care, audibly slapping against his stomach as he kicks his jeans off over his feet, staining Harry’s shirt with a few drops of pre-come. Even as Harry looks around nervously for any signs of unsuspecting passerby (or worse, a stray pap), there’s a heated, desperate thrumming in his veins, an eagerness to please Louis that is only heightened by doing what he says.

Louis didn’t say to touch himself, but Harry can’t help hitching his hips up off the seat to run his fingers over the wet lace poking out of his hole. He shivers again as he sits back down. They just had this car cleaned, he thinks, which—all things (i.e. his bare arse) considered, is probably a good thing, but is going to make explaining the new stains all the more embarrassing. (Louis will probably make Harry do it. Harry hopes he does.)

It’s getting hard for Harry to keep himself from wrapping his hand around his cock, while he shifts around in his seat with the panties inside him. He keeps his phone next to him on the seat, glancing down at it every few seconds, while otherwise keeping his eyes peeled on the back door of the club.

The next person he sees, though, isn’t Louis.

Two tall women emerge from the back door of the club and start heading towards where Harry is squirming half-naked in his seat. He thinks he recognizes one of them as a bartender from earlier. Shit. They’re not turning towards any of the other rows of cars, instead getting closer and closer to Harry. Harry squeezes his eyes shut and remembers, with a sudden rush of something slightly less heady than embarrassment, just how much he has to lose if he’s outed as some kind of pervert, in addition to bisexual. The women are close enough that he can hear them talking, and so, in a panic, he picks up his jeans from where he had kicked them off on the floor and folds them in his lap. They don’t nearly cover his nakedness, but at least they conceal his erection (which, in spite of his very real concerns, seems only to have gotten more massive).

When they’re a few cars away, the women turn away from Harry, getting into a sedan facing away from him. Before Harry has time to breathe, Louis appears at the driver’s side.

Harry freezes. Louis doesn’t say anything as he gets into the car, but Harry knows his eyes are on his lap. His hands go limp, though. Even without Louis saying a word, Harry can’t bring himself to look at him, his cheeks burning. He stares down at the outline of his cock against his bunched-up jeans in shame, apologies building unsaid on his tongue as he hears another car start up and drive away.

Louis puts the keys in the ignition and just sighs. Harry feels like he might—god, spontaneously catch fire, or sink into the earth, or maybe just die.

“Did I tell you to cover yourself?” Louis says. He doesn’t sound angry, just—disappointed. Harry might cry.

“N-no, Daddy.” His hands still won’t move from where they’re shaking on his lap.

“Don’t talk.” Harry stops breathing for a second, nodding quickly and biting his lip. Louis grabs the jeans from Harry’s lap and throws them unceremoniously into the back seat. Harry’s—relieved, really, to be confronted with the sight of his own erection again. He keeps staring down at his red, leaky cockhead while Louis drums his fingers against the steering wheel.

“Was gonna let you suck me on the way home,” Louis says, “as a treat for being so good all day. Do you think you deserve that now, Harry?”

Harry bites his lip harder, so hard it feels like he might draw blood, and shakes his head slightly. He keeps his hands very still by his sides. _Daddy_ notwithstanding, they don’t really do age play, but when Louis scolds him like this, he can’t help feeling helpless, like a little boy. His whole body feels like it’s burning.

Louis starts the car. The thrum of the engine feels like the most subtle caress, and Harry just _knows_ if there was something more solid than his panties filling him up, he would be feeling it all through his body. He bites back a whimper. “We’ll just have to fill that pretty mouth of yours with something else.” Harry nods without looking up from his lap. “Chin up.” Harry clenches his fists as he looks up, only glancing at Louis very quickly before looking ahead at the empty cars in front of them. Louis sounds tired as he speaks again.

“You may speak now.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry blurts quickly, his shoulders loosening enough to shake as he glances over at Louis, “Daddy—Daddy, I was, I was scared, please, _please_ let me, I’ll be so good I’m so sorry Daddy please—“

Louis shakes his head. “Fingers in your mouth.” He puts the car in drive. Harry shoves three fingers in his mouth quickly, daring to give Louis pleading eyes even as they start to pull out of the lot. He doesn’t even look around anxiously for paps, too intent on showing Louis he can do what he’s told, can be _good_.

Louis’s looking around enough for the both of them, anyway. He’s looking everywhere but at Harry as he drives away from the club, quickly enough that Harry almost chokes on his fingers when they pull to an abrupt stop at the next intersection.

Louis still won’t look his way. “Suck.” Louis drums his fingers on the dashboard as Harry noisily complies, sucking his fingers so far into his mouth it feels like they might brush the back of his throat. Louis doesn’t praise him. “Look out the window and think about what you did,” he says as the light changes and the car rockets forward again.

Harry can’t help but whine a little as he takes his eyes off Louis, turning instead to face the whirlwind of brick passing them on the left. Louis doesn’t give him any further instructions for most of the ride, but every moment of his silence just works Harry up more and more, until he’s almost choking himself on his fingers in lieu of crying out _sorry Daddy I’m sorry_.

When they’re at the last stoplight before they reach home, Harry hears Louis unzip his jeans and pull out his cock.

“All day you’re good for me,” Louis says. He keeps one hand on the wheel and licks the other, begins to jerk himself off noisily. “Then, just when you’re about to get your reward, you lose your nerve. Get embarrassed. Think about people other than me.”

“No,” Harry says, though it comes out more like _nnnn_ through his fingers. He doesn’t look away from where Louis told him to, even as his neck aches to turn and take in the sight of Louis touching himself. His own cock, which had gone down just a little from lack of attention, is rock-hard. They start to drive again, but the sounds of Louis jerking himself off don’t stop.

“Maybe it’s my fault,” he ponders as they drive slowly down their neighbourhood. Harry’s eyes take in the sight of their neighbour’s houses and wonder if any of them will look out their windows and see him sucking on his own fingers. “Maybe I haven’t been stern enough with you. Haven’t been a good enough daddy.”

Harry whines loudly through his fingers, shaking his head violently, daring a glance over his shoulder to Louis. Louis keeps looking forward impassively (though with his jaw hard-set) as he pulls them into their own drive, the hedges obscuring them from their neighbours’ view.

Louis turns the car off and rests his hands loosely on the steering wheel.

“All right,” he says. “We’re home.” Louis sounds exhausted. “Can take your fingers out of your mouth now.”

“Daddy,” Harry says so quickly it comes out garbled, his fingers still halfway in his mouth. He sets his wet hand on his thigh and swallows. “You’re the _best_ daddy.” Harry’s voice still sounds rough. Louis shrugs, one hand thumbing over the end of his cock lazily as he looks off towards their front door. Harry opens his mouth to praise him again, but Louis cuts him off.

“You can come now.” He sounds—almost bored, and Harry bristles. “Any way you want, but it has to be outside. Go inside and you’re not coming for the rest of the night.”

Harry frowns. His wet hand itches to wrap around his cock, but—not without Louis’s say-so. “How. How do you want me?”

Louis stops jerking himself off and looks at Harry impassively. “Like I said.” He gestures to the side vaguely. “However you want.”

Harry blinks. “I—“ He swallows. “Can. Can I have the plug again?”

“Sure.” Louis pulls a little plastic baggie out of his jacket pocket with the plug and the remote in it and tosses it into Harry’s lap. Harry stares down at it. “Lube’s in the glove box, you know.”

“Oh—okay.” Harry’s hand shakes a little as he gets out the lube, like he’s waiting for Louis to snap and tell him he’s doing something wrong. He gets on his knees in the passenger’s seat, leaning forward against the headrest while he reaches behind himself and pulls the crumpled panties out of his arse slowly, gasping as the lace tickles his rim. It's wet and just a tiny bit rough and so, so _dirty_ , like a striptease on _steroids_ , but Louis barely reacts even as Harry mewls and throws his head back. He watches Harry with his hand not moving on his cock while Harry lubes up the pink plug and sticks it back inside himself. When it’s sitting snugly against his prostate, Harry gasps a little and sits back on his haunches, eyes automatically turning to Louis to wait for him to tell him what to do next.

Louis just looks back at him, his eyes slightly darkened with arousal, but otherwise… seemingly uninterested. Harry clenches around the plug and whines as it shifts inside him. The remote is sitting right next to him, but—it doesn’t, it wouldn’t feel _right_ to turn it on himself, even if it would feel _so_ good, not while Louis’s sitting right next to him.

“Go on.” Louis squeezes his own cock as his eyes trail down the ripples of Harry’s shirt over his back, to his hard cock curved against his stomach, to the pink plug poking out of him. “Whatever you want, it’s up to you.”

Harry swallows, fucking himself slightly on the plug as his mind grapples for something to focus on, anything but how he’s been so bad it’s like Louis doesn’t even _care_. A few minutes ago he was so on edge he might have come untouched, in front of their neighbours’ houses, if Louis had just said the word, but now he feels like he’s been thrown off balance, like that edge he needs has been flung just out of reach.

“Can—” Harry bites his lip as he watches Louis’s hand on his cock. “Wanna fuck you,” he mumbles, looking down at his own cock uncertainly. He’s still not quite sure if he can ask for that, but. There’s no better way to work Louis into a frenzy, to get Louis to whine and moan and praise him and make him feel so, so _satisfied_ because he can _feel_ how happy he’s making Louis in the clenching of Louis’s walls around his cock.

“Okay.” Louis doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t _move_ , and Harry feels like he might be going out of his _mind_ , like this is a horrible not-quite-nightmare he can’t wake up from.

After waiting for Louis to say something for another moment, Harry clears his throat. “Um. Back?”

Louis grunts and steps out of the car, already getting on all fours in the backseat before Harry has the presence of mind to clamber to the back himself. He kneels behind Louis and stares at him uneasily for a moment before Louis pulls down his own trousers and raises his eyebrows at Harry over his shoulder. Only then does Harry grab the lube and start to pour it over his fingers.

Louis finally hums in satisfaction as Harry works his fingers into him. Harry had just fucked him yesterday morning, so it’s not long before he’s three fingers deep, crooking his fingers and drawing a gasp and a _yeah, Haz_ out of Louis, but. Even as he teases Louis’s prostate just the way he _knows_ Louis likes, even as Louis starts to moan and fuck himself back on Harry’s three fingers, it isn’t—it’s just not quite _enough_.

“Ready,” Louis mumbles after a while, “ready, c’mon.” Harry pulls his fingers out quickly, eager to follow Louis’s command. He’s still so far into his sub mindset that he’s not sure he could even put his cock in Louis were it not for Louis’s muttered urging after he leaves him empty for a moment—as it is, he spills half the bottle of lube over himself in eagerness as Louis says again, “Come _on_.”

As Harry lines up with Louis’s entrance and slowly starts to sink in, though, it’s—Louis’s encouragements stop, is the thing, replaced with incoherent moans, and it’s _wonderful_ , every single sound of pleasure Harry has ever pulled out of Louis is like a _gift_ , he knows, but—it’s not _enough_. Louis’s bent over in front of him, biting into his shirt sleeves as Harry grips his hips and bottoms out inside him, Louis’s hot and tight and wet and squeezing around every inch of him, his clothed thighs warm against Harry’s bare ones, his arse a perfect cushion for Harry’s hips, but—but Louis was disappointed in him, not a few moments ago, and even if he can _feel_ Louis’s pleasure as Louis’s walls tighten around him while he tugs on his own cock with small sighs, he doesn’t—he’s not sure that Louis is _happy_ with him. He almost came in his pants an hour ago in front of his colleagues just from Louis controlling the vibrations in his arse and whispering _good boy_ in his ear, but now, with his _cock_ in Louis’s _arse_ , he feels further away from coming than he has all day.

“Mmm.” Louis hums as Harry grips his hips tighter and starts to fuck him in earnest, biting his lip at the not-quite-enough-ness of the usually-perfect friction of Louis’s arse around his cock. “ _Haz,”_ Louis chokes out when Harry starts to slam into him harder, making the whole car bounce with them as the slap of their skin together rings in his ears. Louis’s white-knuckled and moaning underneath him but even as Harry fucks him harder and harder, breaking into a sweat, his vision going blurry, he still can’t seem to fuck a single _faster_ or _good boy_ or even _yeah_ out of him.

Harry breaks after Louis’s loudest moan yet, the first one that might actually travel over the hedges to the neighbours. His hips stutter, losing their rhythm as Louis pants into the leather seats, still without a _single encouragement_. Harry clenches around the hard, not-quite-warm plastic of his own plug and feels so _empty_ his stomach churns with it.

“Daddy,” Harry whines. He astounds even himself with how close he sounds to crying. “ _Daddy,_ ” he punctuates his words with short, hard thrusts, _“please_.”

It’s like something snaps in Louis, his shoulders going rigid at the word _daddy_. He picks himself up off his forearms and throws his head back as he fucks himself back onto Harry roughly, startling Harry’s hands off him for a minute. “ _Fuck_ , baby.” Louis starts to work himself up to a rhythm of his own on Harry’s cock. “Fuck me so good, you always do.” Harry lets out a high-pitched whimper as he scramble to get his hands back on Louis’s hips, feeling a fresh wave of arousal pour over him, making his cock feel impossibly harder inside Louis. “So perfect for your daddy.”

“ _Daddy_.” Harry whimpers again as Louis looks over his shoulder at him and smiles.

“Made me so proud today, princess,” Louis says, his voice gruff from moaning. Harry’s knuckles go white around Louis’s waist, his hips rabbiting forward faster unconsciously, his mind going blank with everything but _close, close_ , and then Louis says, “Come for me,” and Harry’s gone, head slumping forward as he fucks Louis through his orgasm, filling him with burst after burst of his come.

Harry’s barely stopped coming, his brain still fuzzy white and _Louis Daddy Louis_ , before Louis turns himself around and pushes Harry down with a hand on his chest, making him bump his head against the door as he goes down, but the pain barely even _registers_ as Louis crawls on top of him, straddling his chest with a hand working rapidly over his cock.

“My angel,” Louis’s saying, “perfect, _perfect_ boy, does everything for me, gives me so much,” Louis grunts, throws his head back, scoots a little closer, and Harry opens his mouth as wide as he can while his whole body is shaking with his tears, “makes me so _happy_ ,” Louis’s come hits Harry’s tongue and he’s crying so much he can’t breathe, but he still laps up the come around his lips as best he can, desperate to taste Louis, to swallow it all up and keep Louis inside him forever.

When he’s done, Louis leans down and kisses Harry sweetly. He soothes his hands over his shaking shoulders while he licks the stray come off Harry’s cheeks, then kisses him again, and Harry gasps into it, swallows the rest of Louis’s come down greedily, needing it more than he needs air. Louis rests his forehead against Harry’s until he stops crying, wipes his tears away with his thumbs, kisses him all over his face and tells him how proud he is, how well Harry did, how good he is.

That’s what brings Harry’s breath back to him, slowly. Louis’s plastered to his front, cuddling into his neck, kissing along his jaw.

“Hi,” Louis says against Harry's cheek. He kisses his forehead three times in quick succession. “You okay?”

“Good,” Harry mumbles. He closes his eyes and Louis kisses them lightly over the lids. “‘M… really good.”

“Had me worried for a minute at the end,” Louis mutters into his skin. “But you did so well.”

Harry hums as Louis kisses his lips again. He doesn’t kiss back, but keeps them pressed together, liking the warmth of Louis’s breath against him. Then Louis shifts a little and Harry winces as he feels some of his own come drip out of him onto his thigh.

“Shower,” Harry mumbles so quietly that if Louis weren’t directly in his face, he wouldn’t hear. Louis inhales deeply, then nods.

“Got some clean trackies in the boot, if you want.”

Harry considers for a moment as Louis sits up and pulls up his own trousers. Louis looks down at him, squeezes his thigh, and raises an eyebrow.

Harry shakes his head, shrugging as he gets up and pushes open the door behind him. “Got nothing to be ashamed of,” he says. He winces a little as the dried-out base of the plug pulls at his rim, but as Louis smirks up at him, his eyes glowing with affection, Harry doesn’t care about anything else in the world.


	3. Fingers, Public Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The tags that apply to this chapter are: fisting, emotional distress in subspace (for Harry POV). zourry threeway (as a prelude to) ORGY (fiveway, Harry-centric), paddling, bondage, double penetration, schmoopy ending (for Louis POV).**

Harry bursts into the bedroom and closes the door behind him as quickly and quietly as he can. He throws off his bunny ears, bounces onto the bed, and crouches behind Louis where he's sitting on the bed on his phone.

Louis doesn't even react at first beyond rolling his eyes. "—fucking incredible," he continues saying to whoever he's on the phone with. "We combined the panties with public play—"

" _They're coming,_ " Harry hisses in Louis's ear. He squeezes Louis's shoulders and tries not to let the solid warmth of Louis in front of him distract him from keeping his ears peeled for the distant sound of giggling or the pitter-patter of approaching feet.

"You know, I'll call you back later, Ni." Louis sighs into the phone but Harry can see his grin even from the back of his head. "When everyone around me isn't going mad. No, I don't know when that'll be."

"I'm not mad." Harry tucks his chin over Louis's shoulder and pouts, settling his hands on Louis's hips even as he keeps a close ear out for any signs of approaching children. He had a bit of a head start running from the girls (being, you know, a grown-ass adult with legs nearly as long as their whole bodies), "I'm on the run."

Louis lets out an exaggerated sigh, touching Harry's hand on his shoulder lightly. "What game have they got you playing now?"

"Tag." Harry leans back on his haunches and pulls his hair back into a ponytail. "Or, you know. Some derivative thereof."

Louis snorts. "What d'you mean by that?"

"Well, instead of one person chasing everyone else," Harry says, keeping his eyes on the door as he strains to hear whether or not the laughter from outside is coming closer or not, "they all chase me. Whoever loses has to watch the babies."

"Aren't we watching the babies anyway?" Louis quirks an eyebrow. "Unless, you know, we're going to punish Ernie and Dorie for my other sisters' failure at tag. Did I tell you about when Daisy tried to feed Dorie a live mouse?"

Harry shrugs and smiles. "Doesn't mean I can't give them a run for their money."

Louis doesn't say anything, just keeps regarding Harry with his lips pressed together tightly, his eyes shining.

"What?" Harry smiles and wipes his face dopily. "Have I got icing on my nose or something?"

"Nope," Louis says. He turns and pulls Harry into a hug, wrapping his arms around his waist, then gives him a quick kiss on the lips. "'M kinda in love with you, y'know."

Harry hums, relishing the feeling of being pressed front-to-front with Louis after spending most of the last two days confined to chaste kisses over morning tea and hand-holding while Lottie and Fizz argued over which film to watch. "You too," he says under his breath. His hands come to rest on the laurels of Louis's lower back, and Louis sighs a little, leaning into Harry's touch. Maybe later they could find time to—

"UNCLE HARRY, WE FOUND YOU!"

Before either of them know what's happening, they're both being tackled to the bed by a mess of girl-limbs. Harry shrieks and flails his limbs while Phoebe starts tickling under his arms, and Louis just barely keeps himself from swearing like a sailor while Daisy whacks him over the head with a big blow-up hammer that Harry bought her yesterday at the fair. It definitely kills whatever mood they may have been working up to, but even as Harry and Louis are marched to their "punishment" of looking after the still-sleeping twins, neither of them can stop themselves from smiling.

*

Louis's mum and sisters have barely been out the door for two minutes before Louis's rummaging through his drawers for the dice.

“You don’t think we should wait a few minutes?” Harry calls in amusement from the living room. He’s not particularly eager to wait, himself—neither of them have gotten off on more than a hushed blowjob in days, since for _some_ reason Louis's exhibitionist streak doesn’t reach far enough to make him want his little sisters to hear him come—but he can’t help but make fun of how obviously eager he’s been for it since this morning when his mother had interrupted his morning handjob. “They might’ve forgotten something, you know. Could be back any moment, and then we’d have to explain—“

“You’re such a little shit when you don’t get to blow me,” Louis says, emerging from the bedroom with the dice and instruction sheet in his hand. “Should we just forget the dice so I can ride you until you shut up?”

That wouldn’t be the worst deal in the world, Harry thinks as Louis settles on the couch next to him in nothing but his boxers and a pair of Harry’s socks. But then Louis raises his eyebrows at him and Harry’s stomach churns with the desire to have Louis fuck him up. He claps a hand over his mouth, barely hiding his wide smile. Louis rolls his eyes and pushes the dice into his hands.

“Just roll.” Louis elbows Harry in the side, and Harry frowns as he remembers he’s still wearing clothes. “If you’re lucky, the dice will let me punish you later.”

Harry doesn’t need telling twice. He shakes the dice in his hands for a minute, screwing up his eyes in concentration and kissing his knuckles for luck before letting them loose on the tabletop.

“Fingers,” Harry reads. Then he frowns. “That’s a bit vague, isn’t it?” He glances up and sees Louis raise his eyebrows. “What’s the sheet say?”

“Not too complicated.” Louis's already skimming over the sheet, squinting to read without his glasses. “It just says—the number die signifies the number of fingers the roller can use to bring their partner to orgasm.”

Harry glances down at the number die again. Five. “So… one hand. That’s not so bad.”

Louis makes a squawking sound looking at Harry’s hand, then cocks his head in Harry’s direction while biting back a smile.

“You think so?” Louis says, clearly amused.

Harry furrows his brow, then looks down at his hands and chokes on air.

“ _Oh_.” Harry clenches his hand into a fist. It looks _huge_. “Jesus, I didn’t think— _wow_. Okay.” He unclenches his fist and drums his fingers on Louis's knee absent-mindedly. “Five. That’s—“

“Fisting,” Louis says. “It’s a fist.” He eyes Harry’s hand on his knee with a bit of a cheeky grin. Harry blushes and stills his hand on Louis's thigh.

“It’s… big.” It feels like a stupid thing to say, but it’s all Harry can think as he looks down at his hand spanning almost the whole width of Louis's upper thigh.

“It’s—doable.” Louis keeps folding the edges of the instruction sheet and staring at Harry’s hands. Harry moves them into his lap and fidgets.

“Have you—?”

“A couple times.” Louis folds the instruction sheet carefully and puts it on the table next to the dice.

“Oh.” Of course Louis's tried it. There’s nothing Louis hasn’t tried, at least a couple times, is there? Harry leans back into the couch and draws his knees up to his chest.

Louis runs a hand up and down his thigh, examining Harry carefully. “You know,” he says slowly, “we don’t have to do anything just because the dice say so.”

“I know that.” Harry frowns a little. “It’s just…”

It’s just that Harry doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing, it’s just that Harry’s hands are fucking huge and he could _hurt_ Louis, hurt him in all the ways Louis detailed the time Harry asked _what’s the worst that could happen_ if he tried to take a dildo too big, and probably even more ways that he hasn’t even thought of, it’s just that Louis will always be seven steps ahead of him when it comes to things like this and Harry takes and takes and takes from him and doesn’t know what he has to give back.

“A fist.” Harry swallows and smiles weakly at Louis. “You’ll talk me through it, yeah?”

“Of course.” Louis sets the instruction sheet down on the table next to the dice and pulls himself into Harry’s lap and starts playing with the curls hanging down on either side of his face behind his headband. Harry hums and relaxes into his touch, his hands settling on the dip of Louis's waist. Louis smiles, kisses his temple, and says quietly, “We can do it the other way, if you want.”

Harry closes his eyes and traces the fern tattoos on Louis's lower back, having memorized the way they fall around the curve of his arse. “No,” Harry mutters, only loudly enough for Louis to hear because their foreheads are pressed together, “I wanna do that for you.”

“Mmm, make me come with your whole hand inside me.” Louis noses along the line of Harry’s jaw and Harry rests his head back against the couch cushion, inhaling deeply. “Touching me every way you can.” Louis tugs one of Harry’s hands off his waist and holds it in both of his little hands, grazing his fingertips lightly over his rings, his knuckles, his cross tattoo.

Harry is nearly overwhelmed right now, sinking into the couch while his cock starts to perk up in his pants, and Louis's barely touching him, only lightly kissing each of his fingertips. Louis's arse is planted against Harry’s knees and Harry’s eyes almost roll into the back of his head imaging how it would feel to be _inside,_ how tight and strong and perfect Louis would feel around his hand, his _whole hand_ , _inside Louis._ He curses himself for being too selfish to think of it before—the way Louis clenches around his fingers has always made him imagine his cock wrapped up in that wet heat, he’s never even considered going further, pushing all of himself into Louis not to get off, but just to _feel_ him, feel how Louis shudders and moans and gasps when Harry’s deep inside him, only this time—it might not be deeper but it’ll be so much _more_.

“Shit.” Harry swallows. “Do I—am I subbing, for this?”

Louis hums with his lips pressed under Harry’s ear. “’S better if you don’t get spacey. Need you to focus.” Harry hums back and squeezes Louis's hips. “Especially if I get…” Louis walks his fingers up Harry’s spine and pauses. “Well, last time I tried, I went a little mad for it, to be honest.”

Harry swallows. He plants his hands over Louis's arse and nods. Whatever slight apprehensions he had before—he _has_ to know what that means.

*

If either of them go a little mad while Harry’s trying to fit his fist into Louis's arse, it’s definitely not Louis.

In spite of how eager they were to start, they spend almost an hour getting ready. Louis tells Harry to search for some fisting videos while he goes to shower and clean himself out extra thoroughly ("don't need any surprises"). Harry watches the heavily tattooed men in leather chaps pull on industrial-strength gloves and coat them with Trex by the handful and almost can’t watch them slide into their partners’ arseholes, the intrusion feeling too—intimate, or maybe just painful.

When Louis comes back out, he wraps his arms around Harry’s waist and tucks his chin over his shoulder, then tuts. “That’s all wrong,” he mutters, almost to himself, in Harry’s ear. “At least, for beginners. You don’t want to move too much once you’re in…”

Harry nods. Louis talks over all the safety things while he’s still pressed, warm and naked, against Harry’s bare back. Harry keeps nodding while Louis plays with his hands, listening carefully to Louis’s instructions even as Louis drags his fingertips down the length of Harry’s fingers and running this thumb over and over again across the wide expanse of Harry’s knuckles. When Louis laces his fingers through Harry’s, _ready?_ , Harry nods again, but he thinks he’s already a little mad with how big his hands feel in Louis’s, how broad and long and impossible.

Louis said it was possible, though, so Harry tries. The first few fingers are easy enough—Harry could probably open Louis up for a fuck in his sleep. It’s only after he gets his fourth finger inside Louis that everything goes to shit.

“H.” Louis's voice is steady, steadier than Harry’s ragged breath or his shaking hands. Harry closes his eyes and tries to curl his hand up smaller, his thumb nudging Louis's rim where it’s already stretched so wide. “Gotta loosen up, babe,” Louis is saying, but his voice feels far away, everything feels far away but the unrelenting pressure around Harry’s hand, how _tight_ Louis is around him, and for once it doesn’t feel like a good thing. Harry twists his wrist a little and fucks in and out of Louis quickly, shifting the position of his fingers, and Louis's breath hitches.

“Babe,” Louis says, this time sounding strained, and Harry’s head snaps up to look at him. His fringe is plastered to his forehead with sweat, his cheeks are a fiery red, and he’s hitched himself up onto his elbows even though it looks like he might collapse at any moment. “Babe, I think—maybe not tonight.”

Harry blinks. His mind races, but he can’t think of a single time Louis has said that to him before.

 _You weren’t good enough_ , part of Harry whispers cruelly, and he freezes, then swallows, and nods. He pulls his fingers out of Louis slowly, and Louis visibly relaxes into the mattress. Harry looks down at his hand and feels like ripping it off.

“You’re so tense,” Louis says a minute later, when he’s caught his breath. He takes Harry’s left hand in his and kisses it, frowning slightly. Harry sits back on his heels and looks down at his knees.

“You’ve got to believe it’ll fit, H,” Louis continues. He drops Harry’s hand and Harry keeps staring down at his hands on his thighs while Louis shifts on the bed, grabbing the lube and pouring it over his own hand. “Just—look, you’ve got to trust me when I say it’ll fit.”

Harry opens his mouth to say he’s sorry, but when he glances up from his traitorous hands, he’s met with the sight of Louis leaning forward with three fingers already deep inside his arse.

“‘Course,” Louis explains, sounding a little breathless as he hunches over and teases his hole with his fourth finger, “your hands’re a bit bigger than mine.”

“Are you—“ Harry’s question is answered when Louis pulls his fingers out, squirts another huge dollop of lube on them, then sinks back in with four fingers easily, his thumb tucked tightly underneath them, probing his hole to find the right angle before dipping inside as well. Harry’s own hands are digging into his thighs so hard it feels like he might draw blood. Louis looks so— _relaxed_ , even as his breathing goes ragged while he fucks himself slowly on all five of his fingers, his arm visibly straining and his torso going tacky with sweat. His rim is stretched so far open around his hand that Harry can’t imagine him taking any more, thinks Louis might actually burst open any second as it is, and the _sounds_ Louis is making—these deep, sharp grunts that Harry only ever hears when Louis's lost his words entirely, and _that’s_ not too often—aren’t doing anything to dampen the anxiety building up in Harry’s chest, a wordless, desperate urge for _something_ to happen.

Louis’s arm brushes against his own cock, half-hard against his chest, and his hand shifts a little and then his whole body is shaking, his limbs are this crazy pretzel of smooth tan skin inked with Harry’s marks everywhere but Harry doesn’t think he’s ever felt so far away from Louis, so much like Louis is on a whole other plane of existence, as when Louis’s rim gives around his knuckles and the base of his thumb, and suddenly he’s just sliding the rest of the way inside, as if that’s _possible_ , as if people can just _shove their hands inside themselves_.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Louis says, and he sounds _drunk_ , low and gruff and the human embodiment of sex. Harry’s so hard and helpless he’s absolutely dizzy with it, his hands twitching against his legs uselessly. Louis's fucking himself on his fist so slightly Harry might not even be able to tell if he couldn’t see the tattoo on his wrist—the rope, the rope that ties to Harry’s anchor and keeps him grounded—disappearing just slightly beyond Louis's rim, and Harry’s eyes don’t know where to focus, on Louis's _wrist_ plying his arse, the slight jiggling of his cheeks as he rocks back and forth slightly, his hard cock dripping untouched against his stomach, his lips bitten hard in concentration, his eyelashes fluttering shut.

Louis flexes the muscles in his arms once more and groans loudly, and then he’s coming hard all up his chest, cock spasming untouched while his wrist turns inside him. Harry’s mouth waters as he stares at the pearly white come drying on Louis's chest while he struggles to get his breath back under control, but he feels frozen in his body, like if he moves Louis might somehow break. Even his cock twitching against his hip feels dangerous until Louis's slipped his hand out of himself, squeezing his eyes shut when he gets to the widest part.

Louis collapses back against the mattress with his eyes still closed, but it’s less than a minute before he’s beckoning to Harry. Harry knees to his side, staring down at Louis's body like he’s risen from the dead, and doesn’t stop staring while Louis closes his hand— _the_ hand, the hand that was just _inside him_ —around Harry’s cock and brings him off with a few tight strokes until he’s coming weakly over Louis's stomach, his own come mixing with Louis's, but Harry’s barely satisfied. It feels almost like sacrilege.

Louis's eyes are still closed and his legs splayed wide as he sighs and taps Harry’s shoulder lightly. That’s all it takes for Harry to lean down and lick the gooey come off Louis's torso, closing his eyes and doing his best to concentrate on cleaning him off and not on burrowing his head into the soft skin of Louis's tummy. When Louis's satisfied with the job he’s done, he taps Harry’s shoulder again, and Harry curls automatically against his side.

“You get it?” Louis says, sleepy and sated. Harry nods against his chest silently, his hand resting heavily next to Louis's soft cock. “We’ll try tomorrow, then.”

Louis nuzzles against Harry’s hair for a minute, then exhales _night, babe_ , his head dropping back against the pillow. Harry tries to curl himself up smaller than his body allows so he can fit under Louis's arm and doesn’t fall asleep for a long time.

*

A week later they still haven’t tried it.

It’s not like there haven’t been chances—Harry’s had at least one finger in Louis's arse every day since they last tried—but every time Harry gets to three fingers, every time they could get close to trying again, Harry freezes, gets stuck on the memory of Louis wincing, _wincing_ because Harry was inside him. Louis notices (of course he does) and immediately starts pushing Harry’s head down to his cock or spreading lube over his dick, saying _come on, fuck me, H,_ and always looking like he wants to say something else, too, but he doesn’t.

Harry can deal with—hell, Harry _loves_ it when Louis snaps at him in bed, berates him, taunts him for not fucking him well enough. He loves it so much it throws Louis for a loop sometimes, and that gets Harry off even harder—knowing that just because Louis's a sex god and Harry had never touched a vibrator before he met him, doesn’t mean he can’t surprise him, push him in even a fraction of the way he pushes all of Harry’s buttons and more. But Harry only gets off on Louis telling him off, telling him to do better because he’s always been so, unshakably _sure_ that Louis was proud of him.

The dice are just a game, Harry _knows_ that, but now that Louis's _avoiding_ teasing him for not completing the challenge… maybe Harry _doesn’t_ know.

One afternoon, Louis's at the shop and Harry’s home cleaning, supposedly, for the brunch they’re supposed to be hosting tomorrow with all of their friends. It’s finally springtime and the patio furniture needs a good cleaning before it’s fit to sit on, but somehow Harry ends up cross-legged on the patio table watching fisting porn, hunched over his laptop to keep the sun’s glare off the screen, feeling a lump in his throat and an itch in his fingers that isn’t going to go away with a bit of dusting.

Harry’s not exactly sure what his goal is when he climbs into bed, lubes up his fingers, and slips three into his hole at once. Or, rather, he’s _quite_ sure what his goal is: to get his whole fist inside his arse. He’s never needed much of a reason to want things up his arse before, but there’s an _urgency_ to the way he plunges his fingers into himself that he just can’t explain. He cricks his shoulder with how forcefully he pounds into himself, not even trying to reach his spot (he’s barely hard, anyway, that’s not the point), just squeezing his eyes shut and focusing on the burning around his rim as he teases his pinky around his hole. He balls his other hand into a fist while he slides the fourth finger in. He rests his forehead against his knuckles and grits his teeth while he ignores the pain in his shoulder and tries to think solely of the stretch of his arse, as if he could focus hard enough for the discomfort to go away.

He gets up to his last knuckles, thumb still traitorously outside, before he flexes his other hand and feels how _big_ it is, how _hard_ his knuckles are, and he loses his balance a little. He topples forward onto Louis's pillow, and when he’s overwhelmed by the scent of Louis's shampoo—that’s when he just _loses_ it.

He doesn’t pull out when he starts crying into Louis's pillow, except to fuck back into himself harder, feel his knuckles press hard against his rim, and it _hurts,_ the burn is more than Harry can ever remember feeling even though he _knows_ he’s taken dildos just as thick before, but this—he just, he _can’t_. The tight duckbeak he’s been holding his fingers into loosens and his rim gets stretched out even farther but it’s still not, it might _never_ be enough to fit his knuckles and his thumb past, no matter how hard he jams his knuckles against his hole they’re just not _ever_ going to fit and Louis gives Harry so, _so much_ but Harry can’t give him this, he just, he can’t make himself _fit_.

Harry’s not sure how long he’s been crying into Louis's pillow with his half-stuffed arse in the air by the time Louis comes home, but it’s long enough that the pillow is sopping wet and his arm feels like it might fall off when Louis walks into their room and drops his bag on the floor.

“Harry.” Louis's hands are on his shoulders before Harry’s even really processed that he’s there, and he almost collapses just from that, just from the way Louis keeps rubbing circles on his back while touching Harry’s thigh lightly with his other hand. “Harry, baby, what’s wrong?”

“I—“ Harry flexes his fingers inside himself and tries to find his voice even as the lump in his throat grows. “ _Can’t_.” He fucks into himself again angrily, only this time his hand is almost flat and it hurts so much it’s like the breath is punched out of him even though his knuckles are still on the outside of his rim, teasing and steady and never going to fit.

“Baby.” Louis's voice is shaking and Harry, Harry is the reason why, _fuck_. “Love, Harry, it’s okay, can you pull your hand out for me? Do you need more lube?” Louis's hand hovers near Harry’s knuckles where they’re spreading his rim wide open, but he doesn’t touch, like he’s hesitating, and that’s just—everything is _wrong_ , and Harry buries his face into the pillow and shakes his head over and over, smearing his face with tears.

“Sweetheart.” Louis runs his hand down the length of Harry’s back, kneeling over him and kissing his shoulder. “Listen, I’m here, pull out for me, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

Louis's tone is sweet, if slightly hysterical, but Harry still melts over it, like he does when Louis barks orders at him. His hole doesn’t stop throbbing once it’s empty. Even though his fingers are sticky with lube, Harry pulls them up to wipe at (or maybe to hide) his face.

Louis rests his hand over Harry’s hole gently, not probing, just feeling him, like he’s making sure he’s there. “Does it hurt?” Louis asks. Harry can’t look at him, just buries his face into his hands over the pillow and shakes his head, even though it _does_ , his whole _body_ hurts. “Sweetheart. Did you hurt something? Breathe for me, baby, please.”

Harry swallows hard and takes a few deep breaths. The scent of Louis's pillows is almost entirely masked now by lube and salty tears. He shakes his head. Louis's hand rests on the cleft of his arse, the other running over his back, and Harry can feel him shaking. _God_ , he’s fucked up. He shakes his head again.

“Baby.” Louis shifts, kisses the back of Harry’s head, then mutters, “I’m gonna get you some water, and a flannel, but I’ll be back in half a minute, okay? Is that okay?”

Harry’s hands clench into fists on either side of his head and he takes a few more deep breaths before he nods. Louis rubs over his back one more time, kisses each of his shoulder blades, then leaves the room. Harry finally lifts his face out of Louis's pillow, rolling onto his own and covering his eyes with his forearm while he tries to get himself together. Louis probably thinks he’s had some kind of breakdown. (Maybe he _has_ had some kind of breakdown.)

When Louis comes back, he doesn’t say anything at first. He dabs Harry’s thighs with a flannel, washing away the lube, then slips his hand under Harry’s head and tilts his head up so he can sip some water. When Louis takes a look at Harry’s face, Harry can see him crumple a little, looking tired and scared and for once, incredibly young.

Louis sets the glass of water down on the bedside table but doesn’t take his hand off Harry’s head, instead sinking his fingers into Harry’s thick hair and massaging his scalp. “You wanna tell me what happened?” Louis says after a minute.

Harry squeezes his eyes shut. “I was trying to… y’know.” He clenches his fists at his sides to keep himself from covering his face with them again. “Do it to myself.”

Louis doesn’t say _do what,_ thank God. Harry peeks his eyes open long enough to see Louis nod before Harry rolls onto his side, facing away from him. Louis's hand settles in the dip of his waist, and Harry stares at his tear-soaked pillow.

“I just.” Harry swallows. Hearing his own voice helps him come back to himself, a little. Louis's hands on him just make him want to curl up into a ball against Louis's side and stay there forever, but. Louis's not just going to let this go.

“I wanted to—“ Harry clears his throat, but it doesn’t stop him from stuttering over his words. “I want to do it for you, so much, but I just couldn’t—I couldn’t convince myself that it would fit, even, and I didn’t—I didn’t want to hurt you so I thought if I could just—“

“You didn’t want to hurt me,” Louis says, and for a minute he sounds slightly hysterical again. Harry rolls back over so Louis's hand rests on his stomach. Louis pauses, taking the sight of Harry in, and swallows visibly before he continues. “But you didn’t worry about hurting yourself?”

Harry blinks a few times, then shrugs. “I—you did it.”

“Because I’ve _already done it_.” Louis sounds—incredulous, but also angry, even as he keeps touching Harry gently, entangling a hand in his hair. Harry’s shoulders go stiff and he scoots back a little and sits up. He’s arse-naked and Louis's still in the clothes he went to the shop in this morning. Harry hugs his knees to his chest. Louis keeps petting his curls almost-absentmindedly.

“Well. Sorry I haven’t _already done_ everything,” Harry says. The bitterness in his tone surprises even him a little, brings him back to earth with a jolt. He shifts away from Louis's touch a little, and barely represses a whine at the discomfort in his arse.

Louis's hand falls from Harry’s hair and he goes very, very still. “What exactly are you saying?”

Harry rests his forehead against his knees and shakes his head slightly. “’S not important.”

“ _Tell_ me.” Louis crosses his legs, straightens his back, and looks like he’s going to reach out and touch Harry again, but he doesn’t.

“You’re just—“ Harry catches Louis's eye and feels a pang in his chest at the uncertainty in Louis's eyes. “I love you so much,” Harry says, without really meaning to.

“And I love _you_ so much.” Louis looks down and flexes his hands. “That’s not—”

“You make me so fucking happy, it’s _stupid_ ,” Harry blurts out, almost accusingly. Louis doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking down at his hands. “You just—“ Harry bangs his forehead against his kneecap a few times, his hands clasping each other tightly under his legs. “You give me everything I need,” he continues quietly, “things I didn’t even know I needed and now you’re here and I just… I don’t know how to give it all back to you, I don’t.”

“Harry.” Louis puts a light hand on Harry’s foot, not catching his eyes. “I don’t need everything you need.” His voice is low and uncertain.

Harry scoots back so he’s leaning against the headboard, pulling his foot out of Louis's grasp. “Great,” he says, his voice muffled by his posture, “so I’m just selfish, that’s. Great.”

“You’re not _selfish_ ,” Louis says, getting louder, “how could you even— _Harry_.” Louis rocks the bed as he moves to sit on his heels in front of Harry. “Jesus, you—you do _everything_ I ask you to do, and you get _off_ on it.”

If Harry could curl up any smaller, he would, but as it is, even with his chin tucked against his chest, his body feels huge and unwieldy. “But you only ask because I get off on it.”

“So the problem is that I’m _not_ an arsehole?” Louis sounds almost hysterical again, and that’s when Harry lifts his head.

“Could you not put words in my mouth?” he says, with a little more bite than he means to. Louis visibly recoils. Harry almost apologizes, on instinct, only. He’s not sorry, really. He can’t be sorry that they’re finally talking about this—whatever this is.

After a minute, Louis looks down and mumbles a _sorry_. He reaches out and touches the back of Harry’s hand briefly. It’s not fair that even while they’re maybe-arguing, Harry is still so in love with him. Harry doesn’t react when Louis pulls away again. “Sorry,” Louis repeats, more loudly, “I—it just feels like you’re trying to blame me for something. Or—everything?” Louis puts his hand on the back of his head and exhales slowly. “I just. I just got home and you were hunched over crying with a fist in your arse, I’m still… processing that.”

“Half a fist.” Harry flexes his huge, stupid hands and leans back against the headboard, untangling himself a little from the defensive ball he’d curled into. “I couldn’t get past the knuckles.”

Louis shifts forward a few inches on his knees. “I don’t care,” he says slowly, “if you _never_ get past the knuckles.”

“Bullshit.” Harry knocks his head against the headboard a few times and catches Louis's eye. “I saw how much you liked a fist in your arse.”

Louis picks up Harry’s hand hesitantly, not taking his eyes off Harry’s. When Harry doesn’t pull back, he looks down and traces the outline of the anchor on Harry’s wrist. “I don’t think you’re seeing how much I like _you_.” He brings Harry’s hand to his lips and kisses along the ridge of his knuckles, his gaze steady on Harry’s face.

Harry relaxes his shoulders and spreads his knees a little. Louis knees a few inches closer to him. “I just.” Louis closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Harry’s knuckles, and Harry exhales heavily and lets the words pour out. “The dice were—you know, I was just gone for so long, and I thought. If we could just, like, keep going further and further, like before, I could show you it’s still— _I’m_ still the same. You still make me—“ Louis kisses Harry’s knuckles again and Harry’s heart leaps into his throat. “I want to give you so much it’s actually overwhelming,” he finishes, with his eyes downcast.

“Me too,” Louis says quietly. He drops Harry’s hand and settles both his hands on Harry’s knees gently, his eyes traveling down Harry’s body slowly. “It overwhelms me too.”

“But it’s not the same for you.” Harry touches Louis's hand on his knee when he sees Louis wince a little. “I mean, the BDSM stuff. You’ve _been_ there, right? It’s like. You _know_ that language, and I just—follow you, mostly.” Louis's head shoots up and he squeezes Harry’s knees. “And I _love_ it,” Harry adds quickly, then worries his lip as Louis regards him with wide eyes. “You always. I’ve never followed you anywhere I didn’t want to go.”

“Until now,” Louis says, and his shoulders sink visibly. “I. I’ve really fucked up, haven’t I. _God_ , I—“

“ _No_ ,” Harry says firmly, “no, I _want_ it.” He scoots forward a little, spreading his legs out farther so that Louis's seated in between them, and puts a hand on Louis's shoulder. “It’s just… harder, for me, when I can’t—switch my brain off and follow, like. But I _want_ it,” he adds again, his hand traveling up Louis's neck to rest on his cheek while Louis's eyes flutter shut. “I _want_ to give that to you, it just… reminds me of how much better you are than me at all of this. How much more you’ve done.”

Louis takes a few deep breaths with his eyes closed before he answers. “I love that I can show you new things,” he says, putting his hand over Harry’s on his cheek before he opens his eyes. “Fuck, Harry, you’re this—international pop star, right, and I’m just—“ Harry’s brow furrows but Louis shakes his head. “I just have this stupid shop,” he continues, “but you make me.” Louis tilts his head to the side, looking at Harry, and sighs, pushing Harry’s hand hard against his cheek. “You look at me, sometimes, like I’m the most important thing in the world.”

“You are,” Harry says, without thinking. He sits up on his knees and puts his other hand on the side of Louis's neck, running his thumb up and down gently. “To me, you are.”

Louis opens his mouth and doesn’t say anything for a moment, looking down at where Harry’s bare knees are touching his in his jeans. “Yeah, I’ve done— _stuff_ before, but—“ Louis drops his hand and hunches his shoulders forward, so his forehead is only an inch or two from Harry’s chin. “I can't say—I can't say it meant _nothing_ ,” he explains to their knees, “but it didn’t mean anything _close_ to what it means with us.”

“What _does_ it mean with us?” That’s the crux of it, isn’t it. Harry takes Louis's head in his hands and presses his lips to his fringe in a light kiss, while Louis's hands fidget in his lap. “Other than that your bossing me around makes me come so hard I get dizzy.”

“That’s—yes, _listen_.” Louis pulls back, shaking Harry’s hands off him, and laces his own fingers in Harry’s hair tightly, and for a second Harry forgets to breathe. “It’s _exactly_ that. You get to feel like the center of the universe—and I get to _give_ you that.”

Harry is silent for a minute while Louis tugs on his hair in exactly the way he knows Harry likes. He feels almost guilty for the way his cock is starting to harden between his legs. “That doesn’t seem like a fair trade, to be honest.” Louis knows his body better than he knows it himself, probably.

“Maybe not to _you_ ,” Louis mumbles, almost to himself. Then he clears his throat and pulls Harry’s hair a little, so that Harry’s face is turned towards him again. “I told you,” Louis says, resting his forehead against Harry’s, “you don’t—we don’t need the same things, you know? You like to feel… valued and I need to feel like I can keep you happy.” Louis kisses Harry’s cheek and is silent, like he’s waiting for Harry to say something, but Harry just melts into him, bowing his head and putting his hands on Louis's waist. “I’ve never. There’s never been anyone else who I could take _care_ of.”

Harry buries his face in Louis's neck and sighs as Louis's arms wrap around him. On the one hand, if their playtime is Louis's way of keeping Harry safe, Harry thinks, he’s got an interesting definition of safe. There’s a flogger under their bed. But—on the other hand—that’s the whole point, isn’t it? Daddy-Louis can hit Harry and hurt him and humiliate him by giving him all the fucked-up shit he’s ever wanted but at the end of the day he’s never more than a second away from having Louis-Louis kissing him and holding him like this and looking at him like he’s the whole world.

“I can take care of you sometimes, too, y’know,” Harry mumbles into Louis's neck. “Not—I know it’s not the same way, but I can.”

“You do,” Louis says into Harry’s hair. He kisses the crown of Harry’s head. “Baby. Every day, you do.”

Harry hums into Louis's shoulder and Louis tugs on his hair a little again. Harry’s eyes flutter shut, his dick twitches lightly between them, and it doesn’t go anywhere but it’s fine, it’s just good, and they’re okay.

*

“Let me know if you start to feel too fuzzy, okay? You know what I mean.”

Harry bumps his forehead against Louis's and smiles a little. “I know what you mean.”

Louis takes Harry’s head in his hand and kisses it. “We talked about—everything,” he says into Harry’s forehead. “Just remember to use more lube if you need to, right? Can’t have too much lube.”

“I’ll keep it handy.” Louis groans and sits back on his heels on the bed, putting his face in his hands. Harry breaks out a wide grin. “You get it? _Handy?_ ‘Cause, like—“

“Oh my god, Harold, I _got_ it.” Louis rolls onto his front and buries his face in his forearms dramatically for a moment before glancing over his shoulder. “Just get your mouth on my arse already.”

Harry doesn’t need telling twice, not with Louis all spread out soft and freshly-showered in their bed. He crawls between Louis's legs and strokes the back of his thighs reverently for a moment, fingers trailing up just to tease at his cheeks, while his cock takes in the view and grows hard against his thighs.

“By all means take your time,” Louis says, in a tone that suggests he means just the opposite, “it’s not like—“ Harry doesn’t find out what it’s not like because he pulls Louis's cheeks apart quickly and give the cleft of his arse a long lick, ending with a sloppy kiss on his puckered hole, and Louis's sentence dissolves into a hiss.

“ _Fuck_.” Louis's gripping the sheets so hard he might pull them off, grinding his hips forward against the mattress. Harry takes his time, licking the slightly wrinkled skin over and over, sucking on Louis's rim like a French kiss, inhaling the musky scent of Louis amidst the clean smell of soap and sweat. “ _Harry_ ,” Louis moans as Harry’s tongue breaches him for the first time, kitten-licking just inside his hole,.“Fuck, you’re so—you’re doing so good, _shit_.”

Harry hums with his lips parted around Louis's rim and Louis bucks back into him, like he can’t help it. Without really thinking, Harry slaps Louis's arse firmly.

Louis grunts, and a thrill runs up Harry’s spine as he imagines Louis flipping them over and returning the favor. That’s not what this is about, though. “Shit shit buggering _hell_.” Louis balls his hands into fists in the sheets and thrusts his arse up. “Again, _fuck_.”

Harry sits back on his heels for a moment and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Are you _ordering_ me to spank you?”

Louis looks over his shoulder and raises his eyebrows. “Do I have to?”

Harry bites down a smile and smacks Louis's arse again, harder, leaving an imprint of his huge hand there for a fleeting moment. Louis groans and thrusts his arse up while Harry moves back down, so Harry’s smothered between his arsecheeks for a moment before he licks into him again in earnest, his hums muffled by Louis's cheeks but certainly not unfelt, if the way Louis keeps undulating his hips is any indication.

Neither of them is really interested in Harry taking his tongue out of Louis’s arse, so it’s not a proper spanking—Harry can’t get the angle right, especially while he’s spreading Louis out so he can fuck into him with his tongue—but the intermittent slaps to his arse only seem to make Louis open up faster, make it easier for Harry to work his tongue inside him, until he’s slipping a finger in alongside his tongue just because he knows he can, and then he adds another just because Louis feels so good, warm and inviting around Harry’s fingers. Louis’s gone pliant and soft underneath him, and Harry’s brain feels like it’s on fire because he knows this, knows how to give Louis exactly what he wants. When he pulls his tongue away, lubes up his first three fingers, and slides them easily inside Louis, he automatically seeks the spot that has Louis scrambling for purchase, for leverage to fuck back onto him, pushing Harry deeper and farther and faster until they reach a rhythm that has Louis arching his back and cursing quietly every other thrust.

“Fuck me,” Louis says, under his breath, and Harry pauses. His fingers move to Louis's prostate without thinking and Louis gasps, buries his head in the pillow, and says again, just loud enough for Harry to be sure he heard correctly, _fuck me_.

“Wanna keep going,” Harry says. His cock is heavy against his hip and Louis's arse is tight around him but gives just so when Harry flexes out his fingers, and Harry isn’t sure how it happened but he is so, _so_ ready.

“After,” Louis says, then keens as Harry stretches his fingers in his arse again, “after you fuck me open with your cock, _God_ —“ Louis tries to push his arse up and spread his legs wider at the same time when Harry twists his wrist a little, “—you’ll, you’ll fit right inside me, fill me so good, so much, _please_.”

Harry pulls his fingers almost all the way out and then pushes back into Louis deeply, wrenching another moan out of him. _Fuck_ , of course watching Louis take his fingers makes Harry’s cock ache to take their place, to slide inside Louis and fuck him exactly how he knows he likes, to wrench desperate little cries out of Louis as he fills him up and splits him open and gets him ready for his hand, but—

“Don’t wanna come yet,” Harry mumbles, his fingers still while Louis works himself into a frenzied pant fucking himself on them. Louis looks so good being fucked, splitting himself open to let Harry inside—it’s a real danger.

Louis laughs a little desperately, his hips circling around Harry’s hand to make up for how Harry has gone still. “So don’t.” Louis's cock is dragging heavily over the sheets, and Harry’s own arse clenches, protesting its emptiness. Louis looks over his shoulder and grins. “You’re good at that.”

Harry’s face burns a little at the compliment, his mind reeling to all the times he’s fucked Louis in this bed, and elsewhere, with Louis moaning and taunting him and coming over and over while Harry waited and waited. This isn’t quite like that, though. Harry pulls his fingers out slowly, relishing every point of contact between his fingertips and Louis’s hot, perfect body. This time, Harry’s not just letting himself be used—Louis’s using his cock to prepare himself for something so, _so_ much bigger.

Louis whines a little as Harry lubes himself up. Harry tugs on the pillow underneath Louis's head and Louis nods, shifting his hips upwards so Harry can settle the pillow under them. He takes Louis's hard cock in one hand, jerking it while he moves into position, running his thumb over the slit. He sucks the pre-come off his thumb before he lines himself up with Louis's arse, hands on Louis's hips perfectly framing his ferns.

“Your _hands_.” Louis throws back his head a little and chokes on air while Harry’s cock slides into him, slowly and surely. “Love—love your hands on me, everywhere, while you’re inside me, _fuck_.”

Harry slides his hands up Louis's back, over his shoulder blades, rubs up and down his bulging biceps while Louis grapples the bed and tries to push his arse back impossibly farther onto Harry’s cock, then slides them over Louis's. Louis fans out his fingers for Harry to lace through them. Harry fucks back into Louis in earnest and their hands tighten around each other while Louis lets out a strangled gasp. He doesn’t let up as Harry snaps his hips forward so that Louis's arse jiggles while he clenches around the full length of Harry’s cock inside him, fingers wrapping around Harry’s so tightly it feels like his bones might break and he never, ever wants to let go.

Louis's breathing is ragged and loud, his shoulders shaking a little where they’re pressed up against Harry’s chest, his chin tucked down while Harry mouths hot not-quite-kisses at the nape of his neck. It would be so easy to come like this, buried so deep in Louis neither of them can breathe, while Louis rocks slowly against the pillow under his hips. Instead, Harry slows his thrusts, hooks his ankles around Louis's splayed legs so he’s spread out over him like an obscene starfish, thighs and calves and arms all pressed together while they clutch each other’s hands and Harry grinds into Louis's arse deep and slow.

“Mine,” Louis breathes against the mattress, squeezing Harry’s hands impossibly harder while Harry drags over his prostate slowly. His breath hitches as Harry teases the spot again, burying his face in Louis's hair and whimpering as Louis bears down around him, trapping his cock in the tightest and sweetest embrace. “My boy,” Louis says a little louder. Harry pulls his hips back and thrusts them forward again hard, breathing harshly into Louis's ear while Louis's words vibrate between them. “My perfect boy.” Louis kisses their enjoined hands, Harry’s huge, white knuckles. “My everything, my baby.” Louis keeps kissing all over the back of Harry’s hand while he rocks his arse back to meet Harry’s thrusts, pushing him even farther inside. “Fill me up so, _so_ good.”

On a particularly hard thrust Louis sinks farther down into the mattress, moaning deep in his throat as he grinds his hips into the pillow underneath him, his grip on Harry’s hands loosening. Harry kisses the back of his neck hard and starts to untangle himself from Louis, hands skimming over the ink on his arms, the line of his shoulders, then grips his hips and pulls him up onto his knees, still buried deep inside him. Louis slams his fist down on the bed while Harry pulls him onto his cock with his hands tight around his hips, gasping as his cock drags lightly against the pillow beneath him and Harry’s cock drags hard inside him. It’s better than _anything_ , Louis—flawless, effortlessly in control Louis—letting his body go loose and pliant and open for Harry to grab and fuck and fill, Louis moaning and bucking his hips and letting Harry in, as far as he can go, and Harry wants _more_.

“Ready.” Harry’s voice is garbled, so he swallows, pulling Louis back against him hard while he does so that their skin smacks together and Harry is as far inside Louis as he can go. He grits his teeth as Louis arches his back, pressing back flush against him. “Lou, ‘m—“

“Ready,” Louis echoes, and Harry might think he were in some sort of trance were it not for the way he knees forward a bit, so Harry’s cock is pulled out of his arse and bobs down almost painfully to his thigh. Louis rolls onto his back, pulls the pillow underneath his arse, and hitches his hips up, looking at Harry with an expectant, almost sleepy smile.

Harry crawls between Louis's legs again and doesn’t take his eyes off Louis's stretched hole while he upends the bottle of lube over his hand. When his hand feels like it’s drenched in lube, he reaches out and traces Louis's red, stretched-out hole. Louis hums.

“C’mon, babe.” Louis reaches down and runs his fingers over Harry’s wrist gently, guiding the tips of Harry’s fingers inside him. “Make your daddy feel good.”

That’s all it takes for the part of Harry that wonders if he can really do this to switch off. Harry’s spine shivers as he steadies himself with his other hand on Louis’s thigh, his lips forming an unspoken yes over and over again. His first three fingers slide in easily. Louis grabs at the backs of his thighs and spreads his legs wider, breathing out roughly. Harry plunges his fingers in and out of Louis quickly, biting his lip as his knuckles disappear inside Louis’s body, his other hand running up and down Louis’s leg. Harry’s whole body feels like it’s buzzing from fucking Louis (his cock is hard and flushed and wet against his hip) but he pours all of it into his fingers, exploring Louis’s inner walls gently while Louis covers his face with his arm and moans. When Harry’s pinky slips inside him, tucked tightly against his other three fingers, it isn’t quite effortless—Louis gasps a little and it’s harder to push in, Louis is that much tighter around him—but it happens, Harry does it, and from the way Louis’s moaning he’s doing all right. After a minute of plying Louis open slowly around his four fingers, Harry’s in to his last knuckles, his thumb pressed flush against Louis’s skin, and Louis slams his hand down on the mattress hard.

“ _More_.” Louis almost croaks out his words, hitching himself up on his elbows to try to see where Harry’s working into him. “F-oh, _fuck_ , _yeah_.” Louis throws his head back and gasps as Harry turns his wrist slightly, so his thumb is just barely nudged Louis's balls. Louis's cock has gone down a little, Harry notes with concern, but he sounds totally _wrecked_ when he says, “Give it to me, baby, _fuck_.”

Harry withdraws a little and looks for the lube blindly with his other hand as he stretches his fingers out inside Louis, never tiring of the way Louis gives and pushes and pulses against him. He squeezes some more lube on his thumb and drizzles some more around Louis's rim. For half a second, he pauses, staring at his hand halfway inside Louis—not in fear, like last time, but in wonder at the way Louis's body opens up to take him, the way his thighs are shaking with it, how his eyes seem to roll into the back of his head as Harry sinks back in slowly, his thumb resting wet and ready against Louis's rim. Harry bites his lip and watches Louis's face, pays attention to the way his lips move soundlessly with the slightest shift of Harry’s hands.

Louis opens his eyes again and smiles at Harry, then settles back on the mattress with his hands resting on his opened thighs. “Make Daddy feel so good, sweetie,” he almost-slurs as the tip of Harry’s thumb finally penetrates him. Harry stares up at him with wide eyes and Louis's breath hitches when he catches sight of him. He throws his head back and rocks slowly back onto Harry’s hand, pushing Harry’s thumb farther and farther inside him until Harry’s five fingers are all nestled against his red, wet rim. “Want you so— _so, fuck_ ,” Louis says, his voice going so deep when Harry’s knuckles start to slide inside him that Harry imagines he can feel his words from the _inside_ , and with that and how Louis keeps _fluttering_ around him Harry feels closer than he did when it was his cock inside Louis, and he just—he _has_ to push the rest of the way in, past the base of his thumb, it’s not even a question anymore.

Harry doesn’t even notice that he’s pushed past the widest part of his hand until suddenly, everything becomes unbelievably easy. Instead of resisting, now it’s like Louis's body is— _fuck,_ it’s like Louis is _reeling him in_ , like he can’t get enough of him, like he _needs_ him. Louis's practically shouting in ecstasy and his whole body is limp and shaking except, except his _arse_ which Harry is _inside_ of, his _whole hand is curved inside Louis,_ Louis is hot and pulsing around him and Harry can _feel_ every tiny twitch of Louis's walls against him, from the tips of his fingers all across his palm down to where Louis's rim is clinging to his wrist.

The side of his hand is pressed flush against Louis's prostate, and when he turns his wrist ever so slightly Louis goes absolutely _wild_ with it, shouting his name and clenching hard around him. Harry can’t even breathe, let alone make out what Louis is saying other than _Harry Harry Harry_ even though Louis's sounds are ringing in his ears and Louis's hand is tangling in his own on Louis's hip and Louis's _body_ is squeezing him like it never wants to let him go and Harry comes without even thinking about touching his cock, spurting onto the sheets between Louis's legs and shaking so hard he can barely hold himself up, so he ends up crying without tears into the crease of Louis's hip. His hand works a gentle rhythm inside Louis of its own accord while Louis tangles his fingers in Harry’s hair and tugs, _hard_ , not leading him anywhere, like he just needs to feel him this way, too, needs Harry’s hands wrapped up inside him and around his own and needs Harry’s hair under his fingertips and then his cheek pressed to his cock.

Before Harry’s even recovered from his own orgasm, he’s mouthing wetly along the shaft of Louis's cock while his hand turns inside him in tiny little fucking motions that might go totally unnoticed, were it not for the way Louis moans and thrashes his head back in forth with them, and it’s because Harry’s shifting against his spot with every tiny motion but it feels like it might be in time to the beat of Harry’s heart, like his very pulse is the thing driving Louis mad with pleasure. Harry pulls back enough to see his wrist nestled inside Louis again, then closes his eyes and kisses Louis's flushed skin around his rim, tongue tracing the line where Louis's body meets his like he’s proving to himself that it’s there, and that’s the thing that pushes Louis over the edge. Harry doesn’t see it but he _feels_ Louis's orgasm, from the inside, feels Louis's body spasm so hard around him it _hurts_ , gripping around him so tight it’s like Louis never wants to let him go, and Harry mouths hotly against where they’re connected and hopes he never, ever does.

When Louis stops coming, though—Harry doesn’t so much _want_ to pull out as his body just knows it should. He had been almost as worried about pulling out as he was about going in—there’s just, there’s a lot that can go wrong, he’s _read_ things—but it’s like now that his hand has been in Louis, it just _knows_ how to curve and contort itself to pull out smoothly. Like he couldn’t hurt Louis if he tried.

When Harry sits up, Louis can barely keep his eyes open. It’s like he’s fidgeting in slow motion, like he’s reminding himself that every part of his body is real by shifting it slowly against the cool sheets. Harry stares down at his hand and flexes it, then looks back at Louis's arse and his _face_ , his lips bitten to swelling and his eyes red like maybe he was crying.

“Good?” Louis mutters. His voice cracks and he raises his eyebrows. He looks so, _so_ happy, but this time, he’s asking a question.

Harry places his hand on Louis's stomach, pale, sticky fingers splayed out over Louis's smooth, tan curves. Part of Harry thinks about going to get a flannel, because Louis's never really liked to get as messy as Harry likes. Another part of Harry never wants to wash his hand again.

“Good,” Harry says, without a hint of doubt.

Louis closes his eyes, smiles widely, and throws out his arms. Harry crawls up his body and cuddles against his chest, his sticky hand trailing up Louis's torso and settling over his heart.

“So good to me,” Louis whispers hoarsely against Harry’s hair. “Everything I need.”

Harry fits perfectly against Louis's side and kisses his cheek. He feels like he’s run a marathon. It’s not quite the same colourful, flying place he goes sometimes when he’s been subbing, but the satisfaction is just as deep. They kiss for what feels like ages, Louis muttering _so good, baby_ against Harry's lips over and over, and when they finally drift to sleep Harry feels lighter than he has in ages.

* * *

 

" _You_ put your whole fist inside _his_ arse?" Niall asks, staring unabashedly at Harry's admittedly huge hand.

Harry looks kind of embarrassed, so Louis takes over, smiling happily and burrowing deeper into Harry's chest. "Yup. Whole thing. Right up in there."

He's being graphic to make Niall squirm, but Harry's the one who ends up kind of squirmy, probably pleased with his accomplishment. He already got Louis's appreciation and praise in the form of a fist up his own arse, but Louis still intends to bring it up every chance he gets. _Whole fist_ _up his bum_. "It was in _your_ instructions," Harry adds, mostly speaking into Louis's hair.

"I didn't specify all the fingers had to go in the same hole, Harry," Niall sighs, but he's already scribbling away on his notebook. "What about the edging die? Was it too vague?"

"I liked that," Louis says, thinking back. "Left it up for the players to negotiate."

"Yeah, but not everyone's, like…" Harry nuzzles even closer into his neck. He gets adorably flustered whenever they review one of Niall's creations; forcing him to do it is one of Louis's top hobbies. "Not everyone's as responsible as you."

"Yeah, that's him, Responsible Dom Tommo," Niall says, rolling his eyes like he does whenever he thinks they're being sickly sweet to each other, but Louis hears Harry's undertone. _I still think you're responsible_.

It's been two whole weeks, but Louis still _aches_ when he remembers coming home to Harry's aborted attempt at self-fisting. Harry explained as well as he could, and they've had many happy orgasms since then, but it's a hard thing to shake off. At least he's trying.

"Do you think lingerie is too complicated? Like, what if you don't have any lying around? I heard not everyone's dating a Victoria Secret model."

Louis and Harry snort in tandem. The discussion devolves into the criminally high price of lingerie, and then the prices of sex toys, and then Harry brings up Project Fucking Machine because Niall promised strapping him to one even before he left for the States. They go back to the dice only after Niall chucks a vibrator at Louis's head, because weapons are sparse in Niall's sex toy lab.

"What about the public places? Was there enough range?"

He feels Harry stiffening under him, and clears his throat awkwardly. "We haven't done that one, actually."

Niall quirks an eyebrow. "You mean to tell me you didn't roll those dice six hundred times already? I know how crazy you get with games."

That's pretty much it, isn't it? They became more than a game, and Louis kind of freaked out, and they kind of packed up the dice two weeks ago. "We just never got to it."

That's the point Niall senses there's some tension there, so he doesn't push, thank god. "Maybe just read the instructions and tell me if they seem fun? Both of you," he clarifies.

Louis waits until Harry nods and then he spreads the sheet over his knees. _If the action die lands on **PLACE** , the number die signifies a public place in which the partners will have sex at (don't get caught!): **1:** a restaurant, **2:** outdoors, **3:** a movie theatre, **4:** public restrooms, **5:** a club (sex or otherwise), **6:** public transportation (bus, train, ferry, plane)_

"How much have you been telling him about our sex life?" Harry asks, smile in his voice.

"Too much. Why?" Niall asks curiously.

Louis shakes his head and hides a smile in the back of Harry's hands. "We've had sex in more than half of those places."

"Well, do you have more creative suggestions then?"

Harry sighs dramatically and suddenly his arms are all around Louis and he's hugging him tight enough that his brain blanks out for a moment, dispelling the weird tension Louis felt when facing stuff they _haven't_ done. "A yacht in the middle of the Mediterranean. On a beach. Ooh, in a treehouse."

Louis can play this game. "A circus tent. A music festival. A _wedding_."

Harry bites his shoulder suddenly. "Don't even talk to me about weddings before you put a ring on it."

"Sorry, I meant a wedding cake," he corrects, craning his neck to kiss Harry's cheek fondly.

"What was I even thinking, asking you two idiots." Niall goes back to scribbling his own notes, resolutely ignoring Louis and Harry kissing in front of him. They only stop when Niall suddenly bursts out laughing. Between choked breaths, he asks, "What the bloody fuck would you have done if you'd gotten _six_ fingers?"

*

Louis knows he's walked into a trap as soon as he sees that Harry's made garlic bread. It smells obscenely good, almost enough to distract Louis from the fact Harry's wearing _his_ footie shirt and not much else. Which is almost enough to distract Louis from the fact this is a _trap_. He drops his bag on the chair and approaches Harry cautiously. "Hello, love."

Harry looks over his shoulder with a prize-winning smile. "Hi babe! How was work?"

"Good, good. I pranked the new guy today."

Harry rolls his eyes even while kissing Louis. "You're gonna give that lad a heart attack before his first paycheque."

"If he can't handle Zayn asking for a lead for his dog, he's got no business selling leads for people. I really need to find someone dependable and unflappable."

Harry giggles, and turns away again to open the stove. Louis nearly faints from the smell. He has to bite the bullet. "What's this for, hmm?"

" _Well_ ," Harry starts, and Louis's brain screams at him, _trap trap trap_. "I wanna talk about playing with the dice again."

"Oh."

Louis hopes him stepping away isn't too unkind, but it apparently is. Harry turns to face him and grabs his hips, reeling him in again. "Hey, don't. We're just talking, yeah? About our feelings. Something couples do. Communication."

Louis looks away, as impossible as that is with Harry Styles right in his face. Obviously they should talk, but just the word communication reminds him of their last open conversation about their feelings. Which aired out some issues, that should have been addressed way, way beforehand. And he's the reason they weren't. He's the one who was so focused on discussing the scenes that he neglected discussing their _relationship._ Made Harry feel so insecure that, to fist Louis, he wanted to take responsibility for everything and couldn't even ask him how.

Jesus, he was supposed to bounce back from that. He pastes on a smile and wraps his arms around Harry's shoulders. "Okay, let's communicate."

Harry obviously sees right through him. He pecks Louis's lips once and pushes him back. "Go to the couch. We can talk while the bread cools."

It pains him to distance himself from the smell, but arguing with Harry won't be a good conversation starter. Only once Harry sits down next to him, and promptly lies down and plants his head in Louis's lap, does it start. "So why haven't we rolled the dice again?"

"We can if you want," Louis rushes to say, though his stomach twists uncomfortably. "I don't mind—"

Harry tuts and grabs Louis's hands, burying them in his own hair. Louis runs his fingers through his curls automatically, smiling down when Harry smiles up. It's easy, it's still easy. He's good at loving Harry, hopes he always will be, even if he's not good at articulating his feelings. "Not what I asked," Harry reminds him gently. "You've been domming me just fine, so I don't get why the dice make such a big difference."

Louis swallows and focuses on Harry's eyes, bright green and trusting and kind. He plays with his hair idly while he thinks. "The dice can… surprise us. I guess I wanted to have control back, after what happened."

Harry's mouth curls down, displeased. Louis's stomach turns again. "But you liked the last surprise?"

"Of course, I loved it, you know I did, you did such a good job." He tugs on Harry's hair harder, hoping to distract them both from his rambling. "But before that, when the dice said what we should do… I was excited for it because I just wanted it, y'know? I just thought about you filling me up as much as possible and making me come on it, I didn't care about the BDSM part of it. I didn't think about—" He trails off and looks up at the wall, can't bear seeing Harry's face crumple.

Harry tugs on his shirt and completes quietly, "Me freaking out."

At that, Louis looks down in alarm. "No, I didn't mean that."

"Then?"

Louis bites his lip. "I didn't count on the emotional tornado for _both_ of us. Because that was never even a factor, when I—before, I mean, of course there were emotions, but—" God, what is he saying, why is he bringing up his past experiences when they obviously don't make Harry feel all that good about himself? "What I'm trying to say is I felt like we should go back to our normal roles, where we're comfortable—"

"It was unexpected for me too, Lou," Harry cuts him off. He sounds awfully serious for someone who keeps nuzzling into Louis's palm for more touch. "The emotional tornado. There was some stuff building up and I guess I snapped. But I feel really fucking good about it now."

"You do?" He sounds exceptionally pathetic, but. He needs to know.

"Of course I do, because we got _over_ it and we understand each other better and I had my fist in you. Remember?"

Louis rolls his eyes. Of course he remembers, sometimes it feels like he's still there, huge hand twisting and turning him inside out. It was the most intense thing he's ever done, not just with Harry. That could be why he's over-analysing it. "Just wanted to make things easier for you."

"I get it, babe, I swear I do. But we don't have to go backwards now."

 _Backwards_. Louis tries not to frown. He's dommed Harry every night since then, drawing on things they've already experimented with, like coming on command. He didn't think they were going backwards, he just didn't want… surprises. Before he can protest, Harry adds, "I mean, come on. Don't tell me you're scared of public sex after _fisting_."

Harry definitely knows him too well. "I'm not scared, Harold."

Harry's smirking at him. "Roll the dice then. We'll talk it out like you always want. And also listen to each other."

"Now why would I listen to you when you talk so much shit?" Louis asks with a smirk of his own, and then leans down to cup Harry's face and kiss him sweetly. Harry humphs into his mouth but kisses back eagerly, finally a proper greeting.

He ends up riding Louis into the couch, still in Louis' kit, and clinging to Louis's shoulders for dear life. After that Louis's too fuck-dazed to argue over dice even if he had any decent arguments. They're munching on reheated garlic bread, cuddled up naked in bed with the instruction sheet spread before them. It takes four rolls for the action die to even land on "place", and then the number die lands on "club (sex or otherwise)".

They look at each other for a long moment. Louis feels like Harry's waiting for him to start this, so he does. "We've already had sex in most of the club loos in Manchester, I think."

Harry smiles like he's smug about it, and knocks their shoulders together. "Sex club, then?"

"Fetish club," Louis specifies. "Sex clubs are just… places to have sex in. Fetish clubs are places to play."

Harry knocks into him again. "I take it you already have a place in mind?"

"Well, um. I know a place?" He hesitates, remembering extremely well that Harry's more sensitive about these things than he's let on.

Luckily, Harry just smiles at him reassuringly. "That's great. Wouldn't wanna go to some sleazy place."

"It's not," Louis rushes to say. "It's really nice and exclusive so no one will sell you out or anything, and I'm mates with some people there so they'll tell us who's good to play with."

"Good, that's—wait, what do you mean by play with?"

He sounds highly intrigued, not panicked, and suddenly Louis feels a burst of anxiety clog his throat because he's not sure himself if he could share Harry like that. "I mean, well. There will be other doms there. Might as well use them."

"On me?" Harry asks, mouth actually hanging open in surprise.

"If you want, obviously."

"Shit yeah, Christ, I thought you were getting at me sharing you with other subs, not you sharing me with other doms. With you directing the whole thing, of course. Wouldn't do to please anyone but you." Louis sort of. Stares. Of course Harry's into it, he lives for attention and touch and being fawned over like he's pretty and important, because he _is_ , he deserves that, and he sure as fuck will please anyone they'll choose to involve.

Even if Louis isn't completely sold on the idea, he sort of feels like he owes that to Harry, after… yeah. "Getting excited, aren't you, baby?"

Harry folds his legs and leans his head on Louis's shoulder. "Maybe. Sorry."

"Hey, don't apologise." He turns his head to kiss Harry's forehead, but his eyes stray down to Harry obviously trying to adjust himself. Fuck. "I want you to have that."

Harry makes a displeased sound. "What about what you want to have?"

"I… don't know, actually." And it's odd and annoying, this instability, not knowing what he'll get out of it. Maybe this is what Harry felt like when he tried to fist Louis those first few times. Since he did that spectacularly, Louis has to _consider_ sharing Harry. He already is, with millions of girls across the world. "I've never done that."

"I know you went to fetish clubs, you don't have to say—"

"Never with anyone important. And you're the most important thing in my life. So."

Harry squirms next to him and swats at his arm pathetically. "Are you _trying_ to get me hard?"

Louis cracks a smile. "I have to _try_ now?"

Harry's legs fall open to show that, no, he really doesn't. Before he lets _that_ distract him, though, he makes a conscious decision to be a Responsible Boyfriend and actually communicate. In the spirit of honesty. "It's hard."

"Yeah, I'm not exactly being subtle," Harry huffs on a laugh.

"No, I mean, this." He gestures between them, and then if his hand lands on Harry's crotch, it's obviously a miscalculation. "You know I like to negotiate, yeah? But I don't know how to set limits when I don't know my own."

"Because you love me so much, right? To infinity?" Harry's such a _shit_ , Louis can't help but nod in agreement. "Then we can try a stepping stone. Like, before people start to gangbang me."

Louis perks up, instantly getting ideas. "Like a threeway? Where I still dom you but we'll test how comfortable we are with another person? That's _brilliant_."

Harry's eyes are incredibly wide, and there's a sweet flush working up his cheeks. "I actually meant watching some porn, but _yeah_ , that works."

He's not even sure if Harry's responding to the idea itself or to Louis taking initiative, but Louis finds himself responding to Harry responding to whatever it is. He shoves him back against the pillows and leans over him, feeling better. Lighter. In control. "Who would you want?"

Harry needs a while to consider it, or maybe he's just forgotten the names of all their friends when Louis started pinning him to things. "Zayn, maybe?"

Well, Louis definitely should've seen that coming. Obviously Harry would choose the most attractive of their mutual friends. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, I mean, I think he'd be into it? Remember when we all got drunk and he said he thought I was charming and sexy?"

"He was trying to get candy out of you," Louis points out.

Harry narrows his eyes. "Or he was paying me a compliment, Louis. And from him that's saying something."

" _Really_? You think Zayn's pretty, then?"

Oh god, Harry's getting flustered, this is amazing. Louis doesn't even feel jealous; Zayn's objectively drop dead gorgeous. That doesn't stop Harry from rambling, "Not like you, _obviously_ , it's not like I've been planning to seduce him or something, but since we're plotting a threeway it might as well be with a former Calvin Klein model."

"We're plotting a threeway, are we?" Louis asks with a laugh. "Let's go into detail, then. What would you like Zayn to do to you?"

Harry just blinks up at him, worrying his lips. Finally, he mumbles, "Whatever you say."

At first Louis thinks it's Harry's way of asking Louis to expand, but then he realises he meant just that. Even in a fantasy scenario they concocted two minutes ago in their bed, Harry just wants Zayn to do whatever Louis tells him to do to him. Just wants to give Louis control. He's not sure how to handle that, so he finally swings a leg over Harry's hips and straddles him. Harry gasps, and Louis wants to kiss him a lot, but he also wants to wind him up some more. "I think I'd tell him to watch, at first. I'd show him what I mean when I say you're my good boy. Show you off."

Harry's starting to shift a little under him, eyes going glassy with arousal. "What else, Daddy?"

All of a sudden, it's not just talk. Louis's getting off on this too, getting harder by the second. "I'd fuck your mouth, show him how well you can take it. How much you're gagging for it. How pretty you really are." Harry's mouth falls open unconsciously, like he wants to suck Louis off right now, and he will, but Louis's not done plotting this threeway. "And when he'll see all that, he'll want it too, won't he? Want your hot mouth around him, working him over." Harry gulps, and Louis can't help it, has to shuffle up to Harry's chest and grab his hair. "I'll give you to him, too. See if you're a good boy for him."

He doesn't know what else he'd like, but he's sure he'd like that—showing off his good boy, having Harry try to make him proud by letting someone else fuck his face. Harry would obviously like that too, he's eyeing Louis's hard cock like it's a prize. Louis kneels over him, and Harry opens wide, waiting for it. So Louis makes him wait a second more, rubs the head of his cock over his full lips instead of pushing between them. "You'll make it hot for your daddy, won't you? Because if you impress me, if you take him in all the way, I might just touch you. Would you like getting fucked in both holes?"

Harry's hands fly up to the pillow under his head, gripping it tight while he moans, " _Please_ , Daddy, I—"

Louis pushes in.

*

 **Zayner:** yo I just got a weird pic from your boyfriend

"Babe, it's happening!" Louis yells, and Harry comes rushing out of the bathroom with half a braid in his hair. He climbs over the back of the couch and tries to snatch away Louis's phone, leading to Louis tickling him so viciously he falls right to the floor. And then grabs Louis's legs and tugs hard enough that Louis lands next to him with an _oof_.

He glares at Harry, but he just grins and bats his lashes. _Idiot_. Louis hands over the phone resignedly and tugs Harry's head down to his lap so he can finish the braid for him. "Thanks," Harry mutters, turning over to kiss Louis's knee distractedly. "Ooh, he called me your boyfriend instead of Harry, must've really spooked him."

"What did you even say?"

Harry shakes his head, and Louis yanks on his hair to keep him still while he works. "I put a lot of thought into it, really. Hand-written invitation. With glitter."

"So that's why you had glitter on you? I thought you finally got a job. As, like, a go-go boy or something."

Harry snorts. "It was nice, okay. It said: _What's a sandwich without the filling? You are hereby invited to the Tomlinson threesome, on the eve of the seventeenth._ "

 _Oh my god_. He's in love with a monster. "What are you writing to him now?"

"I'm playing it cool. He asked if it was legit, and I said _yeah, sure_ , and now he's typing for like two minutes."

He sounds actually concerned, and Louis can't help but smile down at him and start making another braid. "Don't worry, there's always plan B."

Harry drums on his lips and frowns up at Louis. "I _might_ have oversold my connections."

"What are you saying?" Louis asks, in mock astonishment. "You _can't_ ask David Beckham to come fuck us?"

"I _can_ , but it'll really depend on how often he reads his fan mail. Plan C is more doable, actually—"

"Matt Healy is coming nowhere near this bedroom, Harold, I will not have you two fall in love over my cock and run off to have an indie wedding somewhere exotic."

"But I always dreamed of an indie—oh shit, he's calling," he exclaims over Louis's ringtone. (A Harry Styles song, of course.)

"Put it on speaker, come on."

He clamps a hand over his mouth exaggeratedly, and Louis rolls his eyes. "Hi bro," he says to Zayn.

"Hi babes, what's up?" Zayn says automatically, like this isn't a continuation of a texting conversation.

"Good, y'know, trying to talk my best mate into having a threesome with me."

Harry pinches him hard, so Louis slaps him lightly and mouths _trust me_. Zayn snorts a laugh. "I know it was Harry texting me. He can actually spell."

"Thanks," Harry says, giggling into Louis's thigh. "I pride myself on that, y'know. Should've been a songwriter."

Louis rolls his eyes and slaps him again. "We are serious about the threeway, though."

"You are?" Zayn asks, and Louis can't tell if he was hoping they weren't, or hoping they were.

"Yeah. I know you wanted to have sex with me since I started working at the shop across from yours—"

"I did not, you shit, why would you say that in front of your boyfriend?"

 _Adorable_ , Harry mouths. Louis's so fond of Harry he almost forgets to answer Zayn. "I'm just joking, this isn't about your huge massive long-lasting crush on me. We're trying something out and need your help. As a bro. No strings attached. Unless you wanna tie Harry up, that's doable."

"Christ," Zayn mutters, and that's all he says for a long, nerve-wracking moment. "You're both cool with that?"

Louis grins with a thumbs-up, and Harry rushes to say, "Yeah, promise. Sometimes you just need an extra dick."

"I _know_ you two have no shortage of that."

"A dildo can't fuck my face, Zayn," Harry huffs. Louis can practically hear him thinking wistfully about the fucking machine. He's ridiculous.

"You're ridiculous," Zayn points out. "Why _me_?"

"Because we know you're a horny bast—"

"Because you're a good mate," Harry says quickly. "And we can't have a threesome on our own."

"He also gives great head. Just come over and we'll talk it out, yeah?"

Zayn lets them sweat for at least a minute before he sighs. "All right. But there better be drinks."

They high five each other, and Zayn must hear it because he says _idiots_ right before he hangs up. Louis thought he'd be nervous right about now, but he's just excited. It's probably because Harry looks so giddy it's contagious. "What now?" he asks, tossing the phone on the couch behind him.

"Slap me again?" Harry suggests happily, turning his cheek.

Louis meant what's next in the seduction plan, but yeah, he could go for that.

*

"So I'd actually, like, participate?" Zayn asks, polishing off what was left of his beer.

"That's the point. We wanna know if that works for us," Harry explains, passing him another bottle.

"I just don't wanna feel like I'm… messing something up. Or intruding. Because you two are— _you two_."

"You won't be, I promise, I'll tell you exactly what to do," Louis assures him. It's just something to say to calm his nerves, let him know he's in good hands, but Harry obviously takes it in the kinky context and his hand tightens on Louis's knee. "It's not even about you, there's no pressure. It's about H. Always is."

Harry's hand travels up to his thigh now, and he's covering his face with one massive hand, but Louis can see him beaming. He can feel it. When he looks back at Zayn, he's looking at them fondly. Louis doesn't know what he's thinking, but since he's not voicing any more concerns, there's not much he can do. So he tangles his fingers with Harry's under the table and presses his thumb to his anchor tattoo, rubbing gently. Harry leans his head on his shoulder and sighs a little.

Finally, Zayn says, "You're lucky I… always wondered."

That's definitely a yes. "You mean you're a horny bastard."

Zayn kicks him. "What's gonna happen, then? I know you don't have sex like—other people."

 _Normal people_. Louis suddenly feels a wave of affection for Zayn, who's nice and helpful and curious and gorgeous. He wants to explain, but he just knows he'll start using technical terminology that might scare Zayn off, so he tightens his hold on Harry's wrist subtly and says, "Go ahead, love."

"Well, like. Louis's gonna tell us what to do, and we'll do it? He'll be mean to me, but I get off on it, so don't worry. And I'll call him daddy, but that's normal, too, so. I might get a bit… not myself, but—"

"Mate, it's okay, I meant it when I said I've been wondering," Zayn reassures him, and Louis wants to kiss him for being nice to Harry. He kind of wants to kiss him regardless. It's odd, he hasn't really felt like getting off with anyone but Harry in two years, but even now, it's not like he's discovering a deep-seated yearning for Zayn Malik, he's just thinking about how hard Harry got off last night to the thought of the three them together. He wants to kiss Zayn to make Harry squirm a little. It's always about Harry, for him.

"We won't play that hard, anyway, because that'll involve negotiating _your_ limits and I kind of want to start already."

Harry turns his body towards him, signaling that he's quite ready too. It doesn't take long for Zayn to break. "How do we start, then?"

"Go to the living room and kiss. I'll put away the beers and join you."

He stands up and both Harry and Zayn look at him hesitantly, like they're unsure if they could be left on their own. It's… nice, having power over two people. He could get into that. He grabs Harry's hair and leans down to kiss his cheek chastely. "Go on. I need you to make him feel comfortable, can you do that?"

"Yeah, I—yeah." He sounds dazed already, and he leans on Louis when standing up. "I can."

"Show me," Louis instructs, letting go of him. Harry nods resolutely and smiles wide at Zayn. He rounds the table and reaches out to hold his hand and tug him out of the kitchen. Louis takes his time cleaning up, mostly trying to clear his head and get in the zone. He needs to distance himself from Zayn a little, view him like a helpful tool. But like, in a nice best mate way. Somehow.

When he finally steps out and sees them, things fall into place. Because they're doing really badly. They're kissing politely, keeping their gangly limbs away from each other, like they're not sure what's allowed without Louis there to direct them. It's definitely stomach-turning weird to see Harry kissing someone else, but the fact he's not putting any effort into it, the fact they seem to be waiting for Louis to run the show, it helps. He feels himself settle into his role even without a clear plan in mind. He walks over to the couch they're sitting on and tuts. "I know you can do better than that. What did I ask you to do, Harry?"

He only puts a hand on Harry's shoulder, but Harry reacts like he gave him a shove. He's all over Zayn, suddenly, pushing him back against the armrest and licking into his mouth obscenely, for Louis to see. He _sees_. There's still the annoying shrill of _mine mine mine_ in his brain, but it's getting quieter and quieter the longer he watches them. Because the more Harry touches Zayn, the easier it is for Louis to see it for what it is—Harry putting on a show for _him_ , kissing Zayn for _him_ , trying to please _him_. And that's all he ever needed.

It's not like he can ignore the fact it's hot, either. He's watching the two prettiest boys he's ever seen touching each other, Harry with his big hands and full lips, Zayn with his long lashes and etched-in-marble cheekbones. Zayn's hands come to rest on Harry's lower back and Harry makes a sweet sound that surprises Zayn, enough to release a sweet sound of his own. A twisted sense of pride blooms in Louis, indirectly pleased by Harry pleasing Zayn.

They're kissing hard now, Louis can hear them panting, can see Harry tugging on Zayn's hair and moving his hips over him. Louis's throat is dry. He thinks he's ready to see more. "Does he seem comfortable enough, Harry?" he asks, tone implying that he doesn't, and Harry scrambles to pull Zayn up enough to tug off his shirt.

Louis has to palm himself when Zayn leans back down and Harry stays up to straddle him. Zayn's gotten new tattoos since the last time he'd seen him shirtless, and he looks _good_ , lean and wiry and looking up at Harry like he admires him. Louis's all for people admiring Harry. He looks up to see what's the hold-up, only to find Harry staring right back at him and biting his lip. He's flushed already, wavy hair nearly covering his eyes since Zayn must have taken off his headband.

He's not sure what Harry's asking, but he nods anyway. Harry immediately hunches over Zayn and attaches his mouth to the lips tattooed on Zayn's chest, kissing them wetly. Zayn sighs again, head thrown back. Louis tracks how his hands are jittering restlessly over the couch, like he wants to move this along but he's not sure where. Unlike Harry, he doesn't know better than to ask. He peeks over at Louis and says, "This it, then?"

Louis arches an eyebrow and sits down on the opposite couch. Harry lifts his head suddenly, confused, either by Zayn talking back to Louis or talking at all. Zayn quickly touches his hair and smiles reassuringly. "This is great, babes, don't worry, I just—thought I'd see real S and M stuff. You know, while I'm here."

Louis snorts. "I know you watch softcore lesbian porn at home, Zayn. What's the sudden curiosity?"

It has the desired effect of flustering Zayn a little, and hearing Louis's voice calms Harry enough to go back to Zayn's chest, sucking marks and running his tongue over his tattoos, his nipples. Louis swears he can feel it on his own skin, so used to Harry's touch. "Just saying," Zayn answers, voice a little gruffer than before. "I can take more than making out with H while you're watching."

 _Well_ , he's just asking for it. Louis adjusts himself in his trackies and stands up. Harry doesn't hear it, doesn't notice him until Louis's hunched over Harry hunched over Zayn, and grabs his hair again. Harry gasps and shuts his eyes, lifting off of Zayn when Louis yanks him up. Zayn's gasping too, watching them. Louis can see his eyes fly to Harry's crotch, like he's making sure Harry's really into being treated roughly. As soon as he sees Harry's hard cock along his thigh, he looks back up and—seems kind of startled to find Louis staring back.

Once he's sure they have his attention, Louis turns his own to Harry. "I think Zayn wants to see something special, Harry. Do you want that?"

Harry's nodding even while Louis's hold on his soft hair tightens. It's not enough for him. "Tell us, baby. Want him to hear how nicely you can beg for a spanking."

Harry whines a little and opens his eyes. They're dark when he looks at Louis, and his hips keep rocking over Zayn's lap. "Please, Daddy. Your hands, please, I want it. Want him to watch."

He sees Zayn moving from the corner of his eye, his hands rubbing over Harry's thighs, but it doesn't seem to soothe him because it's not Louis. He didn't think watching Harry straddle someone else would ever make _him_ feel smug, but here they are. "It's not about _you_ , Harry," he says harshly, and Harry immediately quiets down but his body only moves faster over Zayn. "He wants to learn, and I'm just gonna use you to teach him. Can you be good enough for that?"

Harry nods vehemently, his hands clamping over Zayn's on his own thighs. "Can, I promise. I'll be good and quiet."

Louis's constantly overwhelmed by how willing and perfect Harry is for him, but seeing Zayn stare at him in something akin to awe makes it even _more_ obvious. And he hasn't even seen anything yet. Louis wants Harry to blow his mind. "Get up, take your clothes off."

Harry scrambles so fast he nearly knees Zayn in the balls. Louis keeps a safe distance once Harry's standing, doesn't feel like touching him yet. Zayn's still too winded to move. It looks like he's glued to the sofa, and can only turn his head to watch Harry. Since Louis didn't specify how he should do it, Harry undresses as fast as he can, jumping out of his jeans and briefs and nearly tearing his shirt off. Louis's seen him do it thousands of times, he's more interested in watching Zayn. The way his eyes rake over Harry's body, the way his Adam's apple jumps, the way his hands are scratching over his own thighs. With Harry off him, it's painfully obvious how hard he is in his skinny jeans. It gives Louis a rush, much more than he thought it would. When he tells Harry to kneel, he's more attuned to Zayn's hitched breath and wide eyes than he is to Harry dropping with a thud to the floor.

He pets Harry's hair gently and Harry hides a smile in his hip. "Cute, isn't he?" he asks, and can practically feel Harry blush.

Zayn doesn't seem to understand that Louis was talking to him until he catches his eye. "Yeah, you—uh, he is."

"Why don't you sit up so Harry can lean over the couch next to you?"

They do just that, shifting until Harry's bent over and Zayn's just staring reverently at his curved back. Louis smiles and runs a hand along Harry's spine, petting his arse just lightly enough to make Harry sigh and bury his face in the cushion. "You can hold his hand, I think he'd like that."

Zayn hums and drums his fingers up and down Harry's tattooed arm, until finally he clasps their hands together and Harry makes a pleased noise and moves his hips subtly. They look cute together. Louis spanks Harry five times in sequence, just warming him up, and Zayn's reaction is more pronounced than Harry's. He jumps at the noise and stares between Louis and Harry like he still doesn't believe this is cool.

"We do this a lot," Louis explains, matter-of-factly. Harry nods into the sofa, but Louis didn't really ask for his contribution, so he focuses on giving him solid slaps. He's firm as ever under Louis's palm, warm and giving. Every time his hand comes down the sound echoes in the room, mingling with Harry's moaning. His arse is starting to redden, jiggling for him when Louis hits left, right and centre.

Once he's in the swing of things, his hands move on their own accord, alternating angles, slowing down when his wrists start to hurt and speeding up when Harry gets too comfortable. His palms feel like they might catch fire, but he can't stop himself from spanking Harry, pushing and pushing and giving him more, smacking gorgeous, desperate sounds out of him and practically flattening him to the couch. He didn't ask Harry to count, so he doesn't know how much he's already gotten. Maybe he'll keep going until Harry comes.

He's thoroughly confused when he hears someone who isn't Harry speak. It breaks his concentration enough that he stops, and the loss of momentum makes him realise how much his right hand stings, how much he's sweating.

 _Right. Zayn._ Louis wipes his brow and looks up in question. Zayn's face is a deep red and he's been biting his lip so hard it turned white under his teeth. More importantly, he's got his cock out. He's not stroking himself, for whatever reason, but he looks achingly hard and Louis feels a twinge of sympathy. When Louis doesn't answer, he repeats himself. "Isn't that a bit much?"

If Louis were less riled up he'd snort. If Harry were less riled up, he wouldn't shove his hips back, asking for contact again. Louis frowns at him and doesn't reward him with a smack, instead grabbing his arse and sinking his nails deep in the sensitive skin, scratching him so harshly Harry outright sobs into Zayn's hip. "Not really," Louis answers, keeping his tone light and nonchalant because it makes Harry rock his hips again. "Most beginners flinch when they think about going past twenty, but there's no real physical reason, as long as you play safe. It depends on what you and your sub want from the session." It comes out of him easily, speaking to Zayn exactly like he did in his workshop, only there he didn't do a live demonstration. He didn't have a squirming boy pushing against him for more touch. "My sub, for example, can take up to a hundred."

Harry whines _Daddy_ at that, and Louis understands why—he loves being dismissed and ignored like that—but it's starting to rankle. Harry said he'd be quiet. He tries to think what he should do about that, while shaking out his hands and preparing for the next set. He looks down at his target area and, wow. He was going so fast he didn't even see Harry's arse, but now he can't stop admiring the beautiful colour he's put on him, marks that are all his. "Come look, Zayn."

Zayn shuffles over to him kind of awkwardly, has to pull his pants back up and release his hand from Harry's death grip. He gasps appropriately when he finally kneels next to Louis and looks at Harry's pert little arse covered in handprints. He looks like he's about to compliment Harry, so Louis cuts him off quickly. "You need to be thorough, if you're going for a long time," he explains, ignoring Harry's weak moan. He takes Zayn's hand and puts it on Harry's blazing-hot arse, making both of them jolt. He leads his hand in circles around the swell of his cheeks, making sure to press Zayn's metal rings into the tender skin. "80 percent of the hits should be around here. _This_ area's more tender, you keep it for extra swats," he adds, drawing his hand lower, to where his arse meets his thighs. They can both feel Harry shiver, but bless Zayn, he gets that a part of the game is not acknowledging him. Louis goes a bit off-script then. "Feels nice, doesn't he? Hot and sore."

Harry pushes back into their touch, needy, and Louis frowns again and grabs Zayn's wrist, lifting it and then bringing _Zayn_ 's hand down in a smack. " _Fuck_ ," Zayn curses in shock, echoing Harry's groan.

"Keep your hand flat, so it'll hurt more," Louis instructs, like this is just another tutorial. He lets go of Zayn's hand, and it's like both Louis and Harry are waiting breathlessly to see what he'll do. Zayn gulps, and then, keeping his eyes trained on where Louis directed him, he gives Harry a decent slap. Two things happen then: Harry whimpers pathetically and arches his back to thrust his bum out, and Louis decides he never ever wants another person to hit Harry again.

So that's one limit he's found. For some reason, it gives him all the confidence he needed to try out other things. He takes Zayn's elbow and gently angles him away from Harry, silently telling him that's all he's going to get. Harry whines at the loss of contact, and Louis's just about had it with that. He spanks Harry hard, swinging right from the shoulder, and Harry whimpers ten times louder than before, which is both reassuring and reason to carry on the plan. "Zayn, didn't Harry promise to be nice and quiet?"

Zayn hesitates, like he's not sure if he wants to contribute to Louis being mean to a sweet thing like Harry. But Louis nods for him to do so, and Zayn does. "He did, yeah."

Louis smiles and whispers _good._ He's starting to wonder if this is a casual interest for Zayn or maybe something more. "Seems to love it too much, doesn't he? Maybe he needs something in his mouth."

Harry moves back again suddenly, connecting his arse to the back of Louis's limp hand, wordlessly begging for him to continue. Louis rubs his knuckles over his hot skin instead. "Don't worry, I'll keep going. You'll just have to suck Zayn off while I do."

Zayn's rooted to the spot, even when Harry trembles and nods to himself, hair flying everywhere. Only when Louis looks him straight in the eye and nods encouragingly, does Zayn comply. He practically runs back to the couch, shoving his jeans down his thighs and helping Harry settle between them. Louis can't see much more than the back of Harry's head, but that's not moving, and Zayn doesn't react in any way. Louis runs one finger along Harry's crack, brushing over his hole and feeling his muscles jump. "I'm waiting, baby. Show both of us what a good boy you can be."

"Oh god," Zayn whispers in a deep voice, and finally Harry starts to move. Louis suddenly wants to get closer, wants to see Harry sucking cock from a view he never had before, but he also wants to see what happens when he spanks him again.

" _Oh god_ ," Zayn moans, because apparently what happens is Harry sinking down and moaning around him. If Louis expected to feel jealous or weird about it, he doesn't, he just feels proud of his boy, taking a cock and a spanking like a champ. Zayn feels the same, or something similar, since he mutters, " _Fuck_ , H, you feel so good."

Louis promptly decides he doesn't like that, either. He agrees that it's finallytime to compliment him, but if he didn't want Zayn to hurt him, he certainly doesn't want Zayn to be the one comforting him. He has no idea how to say it without sounding like a knobhead, but he can feel Harry stilling, too, like it's too much for both of them. Louis gets how—Harry's been waiting for approval since the moment he got down on his knees, and getting it from someone other than Louis is probably disorienting. Since the fisting debacle, Louis's been working extra hard on trying to see things from Harry's perspective. "Zayn, why don't you count for us, since you're keeping his mouth busy?"

"Yeah, okay," Zayn breathes. He sounds dazed, like he'll agree to anything as long as Harry keeps his mouth on him, and Louis can relate. He smiles down at Harry, listening to the wet noises he's making, because Louis will be the one making the noise soon enough.

He puts a steadying hand on Harry's heaving back and then spanks him with his other hand, slow enough that his wrist doesn't hurt too much and Zayn can croak out numbers. Harry's doing so well, like this isn't his first time experiencing this particular pleasure, and Louis couldn't keep himself from praising him if he tried. "You're so good, baby, feel so good for me and Zayn," he starts, and Harry's so overwhelmed by Louis suddenly being sweet to him that he pulls off and chants _daddy_ into Zayn's crotch.

Louis rolls his eyes and moves so he's kneeling parallel to him, so he can spank one of his cheeks and grab hold of his hair at the same time, guide him back to Zayn's cock and hold him down on it. "There you go, don't stop now, you're doing so well, gorgeous." He takes advantage of his new position to lean in and kiss Harry's nape, whisper in his ear so he hears his praise over Zayn's counting and grunting. "Almost done, love, my perfect boy. Impressed Zayn so much already. You just need to make him come, and then you can have _me_."

Harry moans so loudly Louis can hear it muffled through his mouthful. He sucks Zayn hard enough that Louis can _see_ the shape of his cockhead nudging Harry's cheek. It looks so good Louis imagines he can feel it himself, feel the wet heat of him. Louis lets him have at it, slinks back to his position behind Harry and spanks him solidly again, hard and steady. Zayn's spouting out the numbers increasingly less coherently, like he's counting down to his orgasm, and Louis realises he is. He looks up and sees Harry bobbing his head fast now, hears him slurping obscenely. Above him Zayn is gripping the backrest and his hips keep hitching up. Louis knows he's close, and knows with sudden clarity that he doesn't want him to come in Harry's mouth.

He stops spanking Harry altogether and shuffles back to his side, grabbing his hair again and helping him along, pushing him down on Zayn's cock. His lips are cherry red and spit-shiny, his eyes closed in bliss as Louis forces him to deepthroat Zayn. That's about all Zayn can take. "I'm—Louis, _fuck_ , I'm coming, Lou—"

Louis yanks Harry off his cock just in time for Zayn to come on his face, spurting over his closed mouth and around, painting his cheeks and chin. Harry looks as good as he always does with a load on his face, but now Louis has to deal with the visual of Zayn Malik orgasming as well, because _his_ boy serviced him, and he can't even handle it.

It doesn't seem like Zayn's regained the ability to speak, so Louis talks fondly enough for both of them, stroking Harry's hair and kissing his cheek, his forehead, his temple, anywhere that doesn't have come on it. "That was amazing, baby, _look_ at him," he says.

Harry opens his eyes slowly, still dazed and breathless, even more so when he sees Zayn's slumped body and soft expression. He moans brokenly and ruts against the cushion. "Daddy," he says hoarsely. It's odd to hear him like that when he hadn't been the one buried down his throat, but in a way it feels like he was. " _Daddy_ , you said if I—please, please let me have—"

"Shh, baby, I remember what I said, you can have it," he assures him, nuzzling into his hair and kissing his ear. Zayn grunts weakly. Louis can't help but smirk up at him. _His_ boy did that. Christ. "Just want you to catch your breath, okay? I'm so, so proud of you already."

Harry whimpers and shoves his flaming face into Zayn's thigh, messing up the come on his face but not wiping it off. Zayn touches him automatically, stroking him gently and tucking his hair behind his ear, and Louis decides he likes that. Likes his boy taken care of. They share a quiet moment, the three of them, until Harry starts moving too frantically for his liking. Now that he doesn't have to push his arse out for a spanking, he's shoving his groin forward, humping the couch to get some friction. He must be desperate for it, and that's all the motivation Louis needed to squeeze his hip and say sharply, "Stop. You're not going to come on the couch." Harry makes a noise so devastated Louis's heart clenches, and it's out of his mouth before he can even think it over, "You're gonna come inside me."

He can actually see Harry struggling not to disobey and rut against the couch again, aching for it like he only gets after a good spanking. But he stays still, just rubs his blotchy face into Zayn's leg and begs for it again. Louis kisses him then, licking off a bit of Zayn's come and feeding it to him. Harry sucks it off his tongue greedily, and if he were anything but a destroyed mess moulded to the couch, he'd probably be grabbing at him and asking for more. Louis can be indifferent to the taste, to the fact they're sharing someone else's come, but it's hard to stay indifferent to Zayn cursing over them. Louis has always thought Zayn's voice is beautiful.

He's been an exceptionally good mate about all of this, really. Louis looks up at him from under his lashes and stops kissing Harry, in order to kiss the tip of Zayn's spent cock. "Jesus Christ, Louis," Zayn mumbles, staring at him—at them—wide-eyed. If Harry weren't whimpering quite so desperately, Louis would've stayed here at Zayn's feet, lapped along his shaft until he was hard again and then tag-teamed him with Harry, but as it is, he's got other plans.

He stands up and steps right over Harry's splayed form, sitting down next to Zayn and spreading his knees. He suddenly realises that he's fully clothed, while Zayn's shirtless and Harry's starkers. He snaps his fingers and Harry scrambles from Zayn's lap to his own, sitting on his knees demurely and pulling Louis's trackies down and off completely. Louis ruffles his hair affectionately and then hooks his legs over his shoulders. Harry comes closer, so his chest is pressed to the couch and his face is pressed to the inside of Louis's thighs, smearing Zayn's come on him. He feels nice and dirty, doesn't need to warn Harry before he slumps enough to hitch his hips up and, instead of pushing Harry down on his cock, he pulls him against his arse.

Zayn gasps in shock next to him, but Harry gets with the program fast, adjusting Louis's knees for easier access and then grabbing his arse and spreading his cheeks. Louis feels himself melt into the backrest as soon as Harry's mouth is on him—it's always a bit overwhelming in sessions like this, where the main focus is on Harry, until it really isn't. Not that there have ever been sessions like this. Louis's never thrown his head back in pleasure and accidentally hit another person's shoulder. "Fuck, he's going right at it, isn't he?" Zayn asks, peering curiously between Louis's legs.

Louis's extremely glad Zayn is there, and not just because Harry's tongue flicks extra stiffly inside him when he answers, "He's good at it, too."

He's glad because if Zayn weren't here, Louis would end up riding Harry's face and then just wanking him off and putting him to bed. It's hard to focus on breathing, let alone plans, when Harry's eating him out this eagerly. His tongue is wet and flexing inside him, his lips tight on him, his breath hot against him. Louis's thighs are already quivering uncontrollably, breaths coming out ragged. If Louis dies during a rimjob, he'll die the happiest man on Earth.

But Zayn _is_ here, and Louis _did_ have vague plans to utilise him. "Jerk me off," Louis says, his voice wavering ridiculously. Zayn's hand is on him so fast Louis ends up moaning and pushing up into it, then moaning _again_ when Harry makes a noise and chases after him, licking even deeper into him. He can't—he can't lose his mind over this—but fuck it feels good, Harry's talented tongue all up inside him, Zayn's calloused hand working over his so-far neglected cock. "Kiss me," he groans, and they _both_ do, Christ, Harry pulling his tongue out to give his rim suckling, maddening kisses, while Zayn leans over and kisses him on the mouth.

It's odd, different enough that Louis's whole body tingles. Zayn's chin is stubbly where Harry's always smooth, his lips thinner where Harry's are soft and giving. But he kisses him hard, like he means it, a lot less pliant than Harry's usual style. Louis's barely able to kiss him back, can't even form a single thought with so many sensations flooding him at once, Harry working him open again, Zayn pumping him choppily and kissing him smoothly.

Louis detaches from Zayn and tosses his head back, needs every breath he can fucking get when Harry curls his tongue just right. " _Stop_ , fuck," he gasps brokenly, grabbing Harry's hair and pulling him away. Zayn stops stroking, but it takes Louis harshly biting his arm for him to actually take his hand off his cock.

Okay. Wow. Nothing and no one is touching him. Louis should be able to breathe some time soon. Harry should _not_ be seeing him like this in the middle of a scene. "Baby, go to the room and grab lube and whatever vibrator you want."

Harry nods and wipes his mouth distractedly. It takes him forever to get up—he's been on his knees for so long they probably hurt, and he's so hard it must be throwing off his balance. Louis's mouth waters just looking at his stiff length, dark and dripping. Once he's safely out of range, Louis curses and slumps into Zayn's side. "Christ, he can make me squirmy sometimes."

Zayn laughs and wraps an arm around him, like they might be cuddling up to talk shit and eat ice cream. It's nice. Louis can still feel Harry's tongue curving inside him. "You're really good for each other," Zayn comments.

Louis preens a little. "I think so too."

"Is he really going to fuck you?"

 _Speaking of_. Louis slumps down and spreads his legs, reaching down to work a finger inside himself. Harry takes forever to prep him when he's subbing, and Louis doesn't feel patient tonight. He fingers himself fast, slick from Harry's tongue. "Yeah. Why?"

When Zayn doesn't answer, Louis looks up from his own dick to find Zayn's big brown eyes glued to Louis's hand. It's hot, enough that Louis clenches painfully around his finger and has to still it for a moment. That's also when he registers how tightly Zayn's holding him. That's different, too—he's used to Harry's huge, cuddle-inviting body, but Zayn's about his height and way skinnier. It doesn't really matter, he can't compare him to Harry in any way. It's not about that. It's about stretching himself for Harry while Zayn watches. "I kinda, um. I just thought it went the other way with you two."

"Sometimes it does," Louis says, pushing in all the way and struggling not to close his eyes at the sensation. "Sometimes I just need a dick in me, you know? Doesn't make me less… Daddy to him. Even if it did, like, did you _see_ how hard he is? I wanna get _on_ that."

Zayn chuckles, but it's dry and stilted. His eyes are still fixed on Louis's hand, and Louis finds himself smirking. Zayn just needs a nudge in the right direction, Louis thinks. He's got an eye for these things. "You wanna finger me open, baby?"

Whether he does or doesn't, Harry finally comes back before he can answer, and in a matter of seconds Louis's completely focused on him again. It doesn't look like he recovered in the time it took him to fetch the stuff. He's flushed and hard and clumsy and beautifully wrecked. "There's my good boy," Louis says, feels helpless with how much he needs him, and Harry's beam could light up a Christmas tree. "Come here, sweetheart."

Harry stumbles over his own feet on the way, but when he sinks to his knees he's graceful as anything. Louis keeps his face hard but he runs a gentle hand in Harry's fringe, marvelling at how soft it is. Everything about Harry is soft and submissive and lovely. Louis holds his own knees and spreads his legs wide. "Prep me, baby. Want you to fuck me good."

Harry says _yes Daddy_ and just like that, two slick fingers are probing at his hole. Louis has to bite his lip to keep a stream of curses in when Harry finally plunges. It's nothing like his own finger—Harry's are long and thick and know just what to do. Now that he's not bent over, Harry's staring right at him, and Louis cocks his head, daring him to say what he wants. Of course Harry chooses that moment, while splitting him open on his fingers, to lean in and peck his lips shyly.

Zayn curses next to them, bringing just enough attention to himself that Louis remembers the plan. "Zayn, finger Harry open," he says, and then leans in to give Harry a proper kiss.

He doesn't know if Zayn listened to him, can't keep much of anything in check when Harry's twisting and crooking his fingers, three now, daring after Past Events. But then Harry fucks in particularly hard and moans into his mouth, and Louis opens his eyes to see Zayn kneeling behind Harry. "Good boys," he says without thinking, stretching out to bump Zayn's hip with his foot.

Harry leans into him, burying his head in Louis's shoulder and just twisting his fingers inside, rather than thrusting them in and out. He's probably preoccupied by Zayn playing with his arse after getting spanked. Louis doesn't mind, content just to watch him fall apart. Think of ways to make it worse for him. When Harry presses up against his spot Louis thrashes, clenching around him and slamming his hands down. His little finger nudges something hard, and he looks down to see the pink silicone vibe Harry's chosen. "You're gonna fuck me while Zayn fucks you with the vibrator. How does that sound?"

Harry just sinks his teeth into Louis's shoulder. "Now, please, m'so ready, Daddy."

Yeah, he is too. Louis takes the vibrator and holds it out impatiently, until Zayn finally takes it and Louis can focus on slicking up Harry's cock and aiming. There's really nothing he can do, lying as he is, so it's all on Harry. Well. "Better keep up with Zayn. Fuck me like he's fucking you, I know you can."

He glances over Harry's shoulder to check if Zayn's okay with that responsibility, but Zayn's dark eyes are focused on Harry and he's clutching the vibrator tight. Louis figures he'll be fine.

They start out slow. Louis folds his legs and hooks them over Harry's elbows, grunting low in his throat when Harry pushes inside for the first time. Like always, Louis's nearly overwhelmed by the pressure inside him, by Harry's size and his achingly slow pace. It takes him so long to fully settle in him that Louis wonders if Zayn even knows how to hold a dildo, but then Harry pulls out just an inch and slides right back in, grinding against Louis in tiny movements that make him shiver and tingle with need. "There you go, darling," he rasps, wrapping a hand around himself and pumping as slowly as Harry's fucking him. "So full of you."

Harry whimpers, his hands shaking on Louis's legs. He's handling himself really well considering this is new territory. Louis prides himself on coming up with many creative ways to keep his boyfriend well-fucked while fucking, but even a vibrating plug isn't the same as a person, who can decide on the pace and the angles, who can adjust himself to Harry's reactions. Or just keep fucking him slow and sweet even when Harry's pushing back more than he's fucking in.

Louis knows the moment Zayn turns on the vibrations, because Harry moans loudly and jolts forward, _finally_ giving him real friction. "Come on, baby," Louis says, and Zayn listens. Harry's so squirmy from the vibrator he's fucking Louis in short, delicious bursts, his hips moving forward and parting Louis's thighs from the force of Zayn's thrusts. "You love this, don't you? Fucking Daddy with a vibe buzzing deep in you. _God_ , you're doing good."

Harry's whimpering helplessly now, rocking into Louis and then staying deep, making him feel so full he tenses up around him, which in turn makes Harry moan again. "Love you, Daddy," he mumbles, making Louis smile.

"Love you too, baby, so much. Ask Zayn if he loves it too."

He was just trying to distract Harry so he could start jerking off faster, chasing the rush that keeps sparking his spine whenever Harry hits home, but when Harry reports back, "He's hard again, Daddy," it hits him too. He leans to the side and glances at Zayn, finds him staring hard at Harry's arse with his free hand pumping his cock, and. He's got a _cock_. Why the fuck is he fucking Harry with a sex toy?

It's probably some world-shattering realisation that doesn't belong to this particular situation; realising that he won't crumble with jealousy if Zayn fucked Harry for real. Because it's _for Harry_. If he's getting this fucked up over pounding Louis while being pounded with a vibrator, he will _lose_ _it_ for a real cock. All Louis really wants in life is to make Harry lose it, shower him with amazing sexual experiences. It'll be okay. It'll really, truly be okay for Harry to get fucked by someone else right now.

That's it, that's the epiphany he needed. He can kick Zayn out right now and drag Harry to the fetish club and then tell Niall how they covered all six sides and won the game. But Harry's big cock is buried in him and he'd really like to get fucked now. He's so caught up with his own realisations that he doesn't really warn anyone before just saying: "Zayn, fuck him."

"Kind of am, Tommo," Zayn says smartly, and Louis wants to slap him.

"I mean with your dick."

Harry pauses completely all of a sudden, staring at Louis with shocked eyes. At first Louis worries that he might have pushed too far, that they probably should've negotiated doing anything like that, but then he notices that Zayn's arm isn't moving anymore. Harry's still just doing as he's told. If the way his hips keep stuttering against him is any indication, he's on board with this. _Zayn's_ the problem, protesting, "What? Are you sure?"

Right, like after everything they've done, _that_ might be crossing some line. "Trust me, you're doing it for us. It's gonna be brilliant for him. Won't it, baby?"

Now that he's been asked a direct question, it's like some dam has been broken. He fucks into Louis regardless of Zayn, gripping his legs tight and _begging_. The best part is that he's not even addressing Zayn, he's whining for _Louis_. " _Yes_ , Daddy, please—wanna get fucked while pleasing you, _god please_ —"

"Fucking hell," Zayn interrupts, and then just drops the vibrator to the floor and picks up a condom from the pocket of his discarded jeans. He positions himself directly behind Harry, so Louis can't see what he's doing, but he _feels_ it when he slides into Harry. Harry writhes where he kneels, sobbing a little and sinking his nails into Louis's skin.

They do not start out slow. Harry pulls out of him almost all the way, and then _slams_ inside. Every thrust is precise and hard enough to knock Louis into the backrest. Harry's fucking him with the combined force and momentum of both himself and Zayn, so he's getting Harry's length but twice the pressure, and it might just be the fuck of his life.

Harry's a glorious mess as he does it, eyes squeezed shut and sweat rolling down his tan body. The way he's whimpering and clutching is incongruous with the way he's ramming Louis into the couch, and it strikes Louis that it's Zayn fucking him, really, and that's so fucked up but it feels so fucking good. Harry has it even better than him—he's living his dream, fucked while fucking Louis. The problem is that it makes him so spacey that he just stops moving at some point, stays balls-deep in Louis and just takes whatever Zayn gives him. He's pressed hard against Louis's prostate, instead of just nudging him, and Louis's so frustrated he could scream. "Zayn, grab his fucking hips and fuck me."

"Yeah," Zayn says, so yieldingly that Louis hears a 'Daddy' that isn't there. And then he does what Louis said, and fuck, it's glorious. Both Zayn and Louis grab Harry's hips and they're not even moving themselves, just keep pushing and pulling Harry in an indecent tug-of-war. Louis helps Harry fuck him hard, and Zayn yanks him back on his cock.

Harry's always looking for ways to feel used and, well, this is a whole new avenue. He's full-on sobbing into Louis's shoulder, letting his body roll back and forth, pleasing both of them at the same time. Louis can almost feel how much Harry's into this, can read just how high it takes him to be used like this, can hear his nonsensical mewling every time Zayn slams inside him and pushes him deep into Louis.

Louis comes first. It's a surprise, but he doesn't even get to really fall apart because they keep going just as hard, Zayn forcing Harry to nail his prostate and to make him come more and more and _stay hard_. God, he's way too fucking sensitive but it feels far too amazing for it to stop, even without a break, even when it hurts.

It doesn't even take him that long to get back in the game, just lifting his come-stained hand and covering Harry's mouth with it, feeling him lap up desperately and _cry_ , cry for pleasing his daddy so fucking much.

Zayn's been too focused on fucking Harry that it takes him a while to even notice there's a new load of come in the mix, and then he's peering over Harry's shoulder and gasps, probably from seeing how fucked out Louis is, draped on the sofa with his legs pressed against his chest and his hand lazily stroking his cock with come for lube. "Did you—and I already—fuck, how did _he_ not—"

That's an excellent question, one Louis suspects he has the answer to. He bears down on Harry and clenches hard, feeling tender and raw around his big cock. "How did he not come? Do you even want to come, Harry?"

He keeps emphasizing the word come, and Harry fucks him even harder, better, every time he does. "So fucking much, _fuck_ , it _hurts_."

Jesus. Louis's fully hard again, rocking back against Harry while knowing now that it's not for his gain, it's to torture him more. "You're waiting for permission, aren't you?" he asks, can't believe it himself, his breath caught in his throat.

Harry nods, pressing even closer to him so Louis can feel that his face is wet and blazing. "Wanna be good," he whispers, just for Louis.

He's never been able to come so fast in sequence, but since Harry's doing something so exquisitely impossible, Louis owes him that much. He's jerking himself fast as lightning now, feels closer to the edge with every desperate pump of Harry's hips, now that he knows what every sob means. Fuck, he wants him to have that so much, wants Harry to feel like he's earned it. "You're only allowed if we come together, understood? Better get me off again. Put some effort into it, why is our guest doing all the work?"

Harry basically bucks Zayn off him completely, grabs Louis's legs and bends him in half. His leg goes right over his wrist so he can't jerk off anymore, but at this rate he won't need it. Now that he has a goal, Harry's working off a new bout of energy, using all his strength to drive his cock into Louis and make him lose it completely.

It's not a matter of trying anymore—he's hitting his spot with every thrust, and Louis feels so overstimulated but not helpless, because Harry's just given him control over the one thing he wants most. That's more heady than anything. "Close now, fuck," he bites out, even with his breath fucked out of him. "You're gonna come so hard, aren't you? My good— _yes_ —my perfect boy, waited all this time for Daddy to let you—" He can't see straight, Christ, _this_ is the fuck of his life, they're both chasing Harry's orgasm and he just needs his word to—" _Oh god_ , fucking— _now_ , come now, want you to fill your daddy up like you've been dying to—"

They actually come together, so hard Louis's sore with it and Harry just collapses on top of him, pulsing inside him for so long Louis can feel him dripping out without even moving, so overwhelmed he blacks out for a few seconds and Louis can only hold him tighter than he ever has. Even after a full minute Harry keeps making soft, coming apart noises, but that might have something to do with how Louis cannot shut up about how amazing that was.

He doesn't know where he finds the strength to move Harry, but with some tender coaxing and heavy lifting, they're lying knotted together on the couch, foreheads pressed together. Louis vaguely registers the sound of the shower running, but he can't be bothered to open his eyes. Harry's holding him tightly and still weeping, breaths high-strung. Louis holds him close and strokes his hair, kissing under his eyes and along his temples. "I've never been prouder of you, darling," he whispers, voice hoarse and lazy, but Harry hears him and shudders. "You were _so good_ , waited to come just like we practised. How did it feel?"

It takes Harry a long time and more adoring whispers before he manages to string together a sentence longer than _so good, Daddy_. "It was hard, but—you said, you asked me to show him something special, and it felt so good I didn't want it to end."

Louis will ask him to expand later, sit him down and discuss likes and dislikes, but for now he's content to kiss Harry's nose and hum. "It was amazing, you were just perfect for both of us. Took so many hits but still fucked me like I asked. I can't believe you're real sometimes."

If coming broke Harry, listening to Louis is scattering the pieces. He only cries harder, arms and legs twisted around Louis like vines. The couch is on the small side and Louis's whole body is sore, but nothing feels more comfortable than this. He can't stop praising him. "I could never bring you to a real workshop—everyone will know I'm still just learning from you."

That hits Harry the hardest. He curls up and buries his face in Louis's chest, body wracked with sobs, and Louis's holding him like his life depends on it. "Please, baby, want you to come back to me," he whispers, throwing a leg over Harry's hip to hug him closer. "Love you so much like this, love you more than anything. How do you feel?"

It doesn't even sound cheesy when Harry says _heaven_. Louis feels rather transcendent himself. He only relaxes when Harry's breaths start evening out. Louis can imagine how much that took out of him. He keeps stroking him soothingly, trading soft words for softer kisses. He's so wrapped up in him it's rather jarring to suddenly hear someone say, "Um, mate?"

Louis opens his eyes, smiles automatically at Harry's blissful expression, and then he looks up to find Zayn, fully dressed and standing awkwardly by the coffee table. He's got a blanket thrown over his shoulder and he's holding two mugs. If Louis's heart weren't overflowing, he'd feel a burst of affection for him, too. "You made us tea?"

Zayn shrugs. "Figured you might be thirsty? I also, um." He turns his head to the blanket, not sure what's allowed and what's not.

"Thanks, love. You can throw the blanket over us, and leave the tea on the table."

Zayn does. Louis has no idea what's the proper etiquette now—he's been in threesomes, but never with a boyfriend. He can't bear to let go of Harry enough to take care of Zayn, and he won't be able to bear Zayn taking care of Harry. He feels like a bit of an arse. "You could stay if you want," he offers. "Have breakfast with us tomorrow and debrief."

He shakes his head immediately. "Nah, I'm good."

"Well, I'll call you in the morning then, you'll—"

"Actually," Zayn cuts him off, still looking anywhere but at them. "Could you give me a few days?"

Louis's heart leaps to his throat. "You didn't… it wasn't bad, was it?" He was _sure_ Zayn had a good time, he was checking. Maybe they made him feel too excluded or -

"No, are you kidding, of course not," Zayn reassures him, finally meeting his eyes. "Just need to reevaluate my lifestyle and all that."

 _Oh_. "Well. I'll give you a few days, no problem. But have you ever heard of BDSM workshops?"

*

They do the debriefing on their own. Harry tells him how much he loved having to work twice to please Louis—both directly and through Zayn. Louis tells him how much it made him feel more connected to Harry, that even with a distraction like _Zayn_ Harry only had eyes for him. He tells him that he hated Zayn punishing him, and Harry tells him that it threw him off when Zayn was being cheeky with Louis.

When they start talking about what they'd like to explore with _multiple strangers_ , it gets a bit harder not to be distracted. As in:

"What about your arse?"

Harry arches a brow, looking over his shoulder dramatically. "What about it?"

"I mean, would you want it… up for grabs too?"

"Grabs or, you know. Wangs?" he asks, waggling his eyebrows.

Louis rolls his eyes. "Dicks, Harry. Strange dicks."

Harry shrugs. "Would _you_ want someone else fucking me?"

"Only if I'm in there too," Louis decides on a hum. It's half a joke, but when Harry gets the implication his eyes go _so wide_ and he launches himself at Louis's lap and begs for his dick and a toy fucking his hole at the same time and, well. That's a whole other adventure.

*

"Harry, why are you wearing pastel plaid?"

Harry blinks up at him while buttoning up about an eighth of the way and then stopping. "What? I like the pastels."

"I know, babe, but we're going to a fetish club. There's kind of… a dress code."

Now Harry looks offended. "They won't let me in if I'm wearing pastels and tight pants? I don't have a harness or anything."

He's pouting, and Louis suddenly realises they'll let him straight into the White House wearing pastels and tight pants. That doesn't mean he should stop teasing him. "Well, that's unfortunate, what self-respecting fetish club-goer doesn't have a harness ready?"

Harry crosses his arm and frowns. "Someone whose dom will probably be wearing sweatpants."

" _Hey_ ," Louis yells, tackling Harry back on the bed and getting rid of the pastel shirt in his own way.

Much the same happens when Louis shows Harry how Louis managed to squeeze himself into the leather trousers he'd borrowed from Zayn. Well, not exactly the same, since Harry's generally more respectful of clothes than Louis. He just unzips the trousers and climbs on Louis' cock, whispering into Louis's chest how fantastic his arse looks. Louis figures it's a good appetizer, especially when he pulls out of Harry and plugs him up full of his come.

When they're finally at the door, Harry's rifling through his bag to make sure they have all their things, and Louis just checks him out. One thing that was important to both of them, when they made the comprehensive list of what they'd like to try out or avoid, is that no matter who touches him, Harry will still feel like he's _Louis's._ Right now Louis thinks they found adequate solutions: Harry's covered in so many different kinds of marks he looks like he's been mauled by a wild animal, plus the load of Louis's come in him, _plus_ the collar he intends to wear the second they set foot at the club.

He's still got butterflies. He thought he was concealing his nerves well enough, but then Harry finally looks up at him and immediately takes his hand. "You okay, babe? You know we don't have to."

"No, I know, I want to," he mumbles. He doesn't even know why he's nervous—he's done this before, he's been to the very club they're going—but he knows he's not backing out. He wants to give this to Harry. "Just… hug, maybe?"

Harry draws him into a tight hug before Louis even breathes. "I love you so much it's ridiculous. Never feel like myself when I'm not with you." He's not even whispering, like he's stating the weather, and Louis finds himself blushing a little.

Louis wants to say _good thing I can't get rid of you_ , but it's not exactly true, and just thinking about Harry going off on tour again makes anxiety crawl up Louis's spine. He settles for declaring, just as loud as Harry has, "I love you too. Always."

Harry's hands tighten on his shoulders. "Even when someone else fucks me for you?"

 _For you_. That's a bit brilliant, isn't it? It's the only way he can look at it without going out of his mind with worry or jealousy, and Zayn proved it is possible, and Harry obviously wants it. "Especially then. Can't wait to show off my good boy."

Harry's hands tighten even more around him. "Don't start, we're not even in the car yet."

"Spoilsport," Louis whispers, sinking his teeth a little into Harry's neck just to feel him shiver. "Let's go then, you're so clingy, Christ."

Harry keeps hugging him for a long, comforting moment, and then he squeezes his arse and _picks him up_ to carry him outside. Maybe he's trying to get as much touch as he can—beyond limits, they haven't discussed what Louis has planned for once they're at the club. It's both because he wants to keep Harry on his toes, and because he's sure he'll be inspired.

He's infinitely more confident as soon as they step into Both Directions. Despite the two year break, it's so familiar to him—the crowd in different states of undress, the mats on the floor for demonstrations, the sex swings and crosses, the leather couches and the sign to the private room that Louis booked in advance. Harry's practically vibrating with excitement next to him, pointing any which way and whispering, " _Look_ , that one's using _balloons_ , and there's a spreader bar like we have, and oh—look—she's getting fisted!"

Louis rolls his eyes and kisses Harry's collared neck, then smacks his arse and jostles him forward. "Why don't you go explore and meet me at the bar?"

Harry nods and zips away before Louis can even add _don't interrupt anyone during a scene_. He wonders if he should go with him, but then the bar literally calls to him. Well, the bartender calls to him. "Tommo? Is that really you?"

With a lot of inner strength, Louis tears his eyes away from Harry talking to someone and gesturing to heaps to rope, and looks at—" _Pezza_? No shit, you work here now?"

Perrie smiles at him brightly. Her hair's different, and he thinks so is her face, but he looks at her and remembers all the nights they spent here. He instantly regrets losing touch with her. She leaps on a chair so she can hug Louis over the bar, the buckles on her harness digging into Louis's sternum under his thin vest. "Part-time, you know, looking for a solid gig. Fuck, I barely even recognised you without those twinky braces. Why are you so scrawny?"

Louis rolls his eyes and pulls away from her arms. "Don't you read the rags? Got a hotshot boyfriend, I've gotta be camera ready."

Perrie frowns at him. "I don't care about any boyfriend, I can still whip you silly if the next time I see you you haven't gained at least—oh shit, wait, I do remember reading something! The cute singer, right?"

"The cutest singer, yeah," Louis says proudly, crossing his arms.

She looks at him sympathetically. "Did you two break up? I'll find you a nice sub no problem—"

"What? No, he's here with me."

" _Oh_ ," Perrie exclaims, stretching up to look around the club. "Is he the curly one tying his own wrists with rope?"

"Probably," Louis sighs, without even turning around. He'll have some shopping to do. "We're looking for doms, actually. Three safe, trusty guys who'll take directions. Got anyone you recommend?"

Perrie drums her fingers on her chin, still inspecting the club. Just in time, Harry appears, draping himself over Louis's back and hiding his face in his neck. Louis can feel his hard dick against him. "See something you liked?" he asks, surprising himself with his fond tone. He's going to need to catch up to Harry.

Harry nods excitedly. "Why have you never tied me up with rope?"

Louis shrugs. "I'm not that good with knots. I can learn, if you want that."

"I want," he says quietly, nuzzling into Louis's shoulder. "We have rope now, too."

"You stole someone's rope?"

" _No_ , I traded."

Louis gasps in mock outrage and turns around in Harry's arms. "You did what?"

"We've got plenty of gags," he reasons. He looks proper sheepish, blushing hard. "I gave her your card, too."

Louis laughs and pulls Harry's hair hard. "Do you want to play with a girl tonight?"

Harry bites his lip, probably getting flustered by remembering why they're even here. Eventually, he shakes his head. "Not tonight. Want something familiar."

"And I was getting all ready to offer my services," Perrie cuts in, reminding Louis that they were in the middle of a conversation. Right. He needs to remember that tonight more than ever—people other than Harry exist. They both turn to find her smiling cheekily and waving her fingers. "Hi there. I'm Perrie, I work here. Used to hang with this one before he settled down."

Harry offers his hand politely, smiling with barely-concealed interest. "I'm Harry. Did you really?"

"Sure, way back when he only wore stripes and couldn't even lift a paddle. By the time I figured out I was more of a dom he was so ahead of me, he could teach me everything I know."

Harry glances at him with his eyebrows nearly disappearing in his fringe, and Louis just snorts. "She was just going to help us pick partners. Did anyone catch your eye?"

Harry nods and looks over at the crowd, pointing subtly at—a short, scrawny guy with scruff and tattoos. Something warm spreads in Louis's chest and he wants to roll his eyes, tell Harry that while they're here he can pick someone tall and built and blond, someone who _doesn't_ look like Louis, but Perrie says, "Oh, good choice. He's a regular and likes to switch, so he'll enjoy both of you, I think. The tall one next to him is a dom, I've seen him in a few gangbangs and he always seemed respectful. Bit quiet."

Louis sizes them both up. They don't seem to be playing with anyone at the moment, sitting on the couch and watching a sub with a fox tail eat out his dom. They look nice enough, and he trusts Perrie's judgement. It doesn't even matter what they look like—as long as Harry likes them, and they don't cross Louis's lines, they'll do. Going by the way Harry's fingers have gone tight on Louis's hip, he likes them.

He's about to ask Perrie for a third option, but then his eyes land on a vaguely familiar face that he can't place. "D'you see the blond guy by the spanking bench?"

Harry obviously does—his breath catches and he makes a tiny noise when the blond's flogger comes down on the sub spread on the bench. But it doesn't come together until Perrie answers. "Yeah, but he only started coming in a couple of months ago, I don't know him."

"I do, I'm sure I— _oh_ , I've got it!" It hits him when he watches the blond rub the flogger up and down the sub's red back. "He came to my workshop when H was—" But Harry's completely transfixed by the flogging, his grip on Louis almost painful now. So it's easy for his words to sink in when he whispers just for Harry, "Looks familiar, doesn't it? I'm the one who taught him how. I held his wrist and showed him how to swing and hit and tease, after I showed him pictures of _you_."

Harry shivers at that, unconsciously moulding himself to Louis's side and pressing his crotch to Louis's hipbone. "Lou," he mutters, flinching every time they hear the flogger crack the air as if he's feeling the hits on his own skin.

"Do you want him?" he asks, and Harry nods instantly.

Louis looks over at Perrie, and finds her staring at them intently. Maybe she should join them next time. "Has he gotten any complaints or something?"

"No, he's quite popular with the boys."

Good enough. Louis detaches himself from Harry abruptly. He feels a twinge of sympathy when Harry looks unbalanced, snapping his eyes to Louis like he's more important than a live flogging show. It's just a twinge, though. Louis's settling into character, slowly but surely. He takes the bag from him and says, "Baby, I want you to ask the three of them politely to join us. Be as sweet as I know you can be. I'll be waiting in the private room."

Harry's lips are swollen from biting, and he wets them before asking, "Private room?"

Louis could explain that he booked it from Caroline herself, that he wanted to be able to control the environment as much as he could, but Harry's beyond reason right now. "More tools," he says, something growling in his gut when Harry's eyes flutter. "Maybe next time we'll do it outside, where everyone could see how good you can be."

"Daddy," he whispers it in Louis's ear, like he's shy in front of Perrie.

It's odd how his heart softens while his cock hardens, but Harry's always had a peculiar effect on him. "Go on. Bring them to me, make me proud."

He's making Harry do it because he genuinely thinks he'll have a better chance at seducing people, but Harry takes it on like it's his personal quest. He goes to the boys lounging on the sofa first, kneeling right in front of them as an opener. He's never been subtle. Louis looks back at Perrie with a grin. "Good, isn't he?"

"Very," she agrees with a nod. "Why haven't you brought him 'round before?"

"It's a long story," he says, making a mental note to take her out to coffee, catch up and show her the dice. "But he was on tour for a few weeks, so now we're reconnecting."

Perrie snorts appropriately. "You just shared him with the whole world, and now you're reconnecting by sharing him with three other doms?"

Louis. Has no idea what to say for a moment. He did not expect such a concise response. "It's not the same. I'm right there with him."

It sounds lame to his own ears, but Perrie doesn't press. "You remember where the rooms are, don't you?"

"It hasn't been _that_ long," Louis scoffs. "Are there any surprises?"

"Actually, there might be. We started working with this new toy manufacturer? He's this crazy genius, works for One Thing."

 _Oh my god._ They shouldn't have even brought anything from home—Niall Horan's ubiquitous. Louis reaches instinctually into his pocket to text Niall, but then remembers the club's policy, that left his phone in the cabinet by the door. Which reminds him—"Are there any cameras inside?"

"Of course not. No phones or cameras on anyone, either. No one's gonna sell him out or anything, don't worry," she assures him.

Right, because he's famous. "No, I meant for us to use. He likes looking at pictures after. Makes him feel important."

She considers it for a long moment. "I trust you, so I guess I trust him, but… I'll tell you what, if all five of you consent, then you can come to me and I'll get you your phone."

He's oddly reassured by her reluctance. This is a good, safe place. They have to start coming here. "Done. Thanks."

When he looks back at the crowd, Harry's already got the short and tall boys trailing after him to the blond. They're touching him, one hand each on his lower back, and the only thing Louis feels is pride for Harry wrapping them around his little finger so fast. They seem to be waiting for the flogging to end, so Louis decides to use the opportunity to check out the room.

He says goodbye to Perrie, ignoring her when she wishes him not to get lost. It really hasn't been _that_ long. He walks confidently to the back, passing a few rooms that are already in use—if memory serves him, one has a St. Andrews Cross, one has a cage, and one has candles. The rooms he's booked is more nondescript.

It's small and intimate, with dim lighting and padded floors. It's sparse other than a huge bed and a closet, which Louis opens curiously and—Jesus. Five minutes later, he's so busy salivating over sex toys and making mental purchases that he's surprised by a gentle knock on the door. He tries to scrub any expression from his face, and then marches over to let them in.

They're all good-looking, is the thing, and Louis knows it's for his benefit, because Harry will be blindfolded anyway. The short one has a beautiful tattoo stretching on his neck, the tall one has sharp, striking features and blue eyes like Louis's, and the blond one recognises him with a start. He looks like he's about to smile and start to chat with him, but Louis doesn't even spare him another look before he turns his attention to Harry. He's still hard, impossible to miss in his skin-tight pants. He looks at Louis with wide, eager eyes and his hands clasped behind his back. "They wanted to come," he says proudly.

Louis wants to smile at him, but doesn't. He doesn't give him anything at all. "What are you waiting for? I need to talk to them now."

Harry bites his lips, showing Louis that he'll be quiet, but it's not about him not participating. Louis doesn't even want him to hear the guidelines. He's halfway to where he wants him, Louis knows that all Harry needs is to sweat a little and wind himself up. "Take all your clothes off, fold them neatly and put them in the closet, and then hands and knees on the floor. Play with the plug until I tell you to stop. Got it?"

Harry nods, starting immediately. Louis thinks he's being extra obedient right now, because he knows he has an audience to impress, and Louis likes what that does to him. He sidesteps Harry and nods at the guys. "We're going outside, I want to come back and find you pretty and ready." He thinks for a moment. "Oh, and put the blindfold on."

"Yes." Harry looks down, shy and sweet again, and then tacks on, "Daddy."

Louis has to physically bite his tongue to keep from complimenting him. He lets the door slam loudly behind him, takes a moment to breathe, and then smiles up. "So that was Harry. You might have recognised him. It doesn't matter. I'm Louis."

"Jake," the one with the tattoo offers.

"Matt," the tall one says quickly, followed by a Chris, whom Louis recognised earlier.

Louis immediately slaps his sweaty arm with a smile. "I saw that flogging! You've come a long way since the workshop."

Chris might actually be blushing. "Thanks, mate. I've been coming here as often as I could, since you can't exactly hide a flogger at home."

Louis barely manages not to laugh. "Right. Well, I remember you kept asking questions about safety, so I hope you stayed responsible. I hope you two aren't arseholes?"

Being direct is the only way here—he needs to approve of anyone who steps into the room. Jake and Matt both shake their heads. "Friendly as can be."

Louis trusts that for now. He clears his throat, and starts the speech he's practiced on the way with Harry. "Good. So this won't be just a demonstration—you're welcome to touch him, kiss him, fuck him, suck him off, eat him out, or use him for the same, but only if and when I tell you to." They nod, so Louis continues in a rush, "You're more than welcome to come on him, but never come in his mouth or arse. Red's his safeword. Don't tell him your names, and try not to address him at all unless I tell you to. Just talk about him like he's not there. He knows to call me Daddy and you Sir. Under no circumstances will you hit him. If he needs punishment, I'll deliver it. _Red's the safeword_ ," he stresses, trying to look all of them in the eye. "It's cool if you don't want to do something I tell you, but if you do something I didn't tell you, I'll have you banned from here faster than you can blink. If you do something I specifically told you not to right now, I'll cut off your balls and say it was knife play gone wrong." They all gulp collectively. Louis smiles and swats at Chris's arm again, lingering because his bicep is fucking huge. "Are you onboard with that?"

One by one, they nod, looking at him for further instructions. Louis feels an odd rush at that. Partners used to do what they were told out of submissiveness, and Harry does what he's told out of love, but these three—they're doing it out of respect. The more confidence Louis draws from that, the more in control he feels, and the easier it is to get in the headspace he needs. "Great. We're gonna have a good time, many orgasms. Probably not for him, but he likes that. Oh—would you mind if I brought a camera into the room?"

"Nah," Jake says without thinking. "I do porn, so."

 _Interesting_. Chris agrees as well, saying, "Does that mean that next time I come to a workshop I'll see myself?"

Louis snorts. "Anonymously, of course. I won't upload it anywhere or use it for any purpose but education. How about you?"

Matt doesn't have a particular reason, or he's just a quiet guy. He nods and says, "No problem."

"Great! Put on a smile so Perrie doesn't think I bribed you into agreeing, and let's go get my phone."

"We're leaving him?" Chris asks, and Louis decides to take him for coffee too.

"It's okay, I doubt he's bored. It's one of our bigger plugs. Where do you get _your_ sex toys, by the way?"

By the time they're back at the bar, all three of them have his card, and he remembers a question he's been meaning to ask. "Oh, is anyone good with rope?"

*

Louis's first instruction for the guys is to take off their shoes, and as soon as they do, he lets himself forget about them for a bit. He's starting this, he wants to rile Harry up before anyone touches him. Of course he did as he's been told—he's pretty and ready, balancing himself on one arm with the other behind his back, playing with the plug as much as he can. He's just used his own headscarf as a blindfold, so his soft hair looks extra springy and Louis really wants to touch it.

He doesn't, though. Without making a sound, Louis comes to kneel in front of Harry, so the only indicator he's even there are his breaths on Harry's flushed face. Harry's breath hitches and he tilts his face up, like he's waiting, but Louis doesn't touch him. "Do you have any idea how obscene you look right now?" he starts. Harry hangs his head with a soft sound, so Louis hooks his finger in the D ring of his collar and tugs up hard, so Harry has to crane his neck and his Adam's apple bobs wildly. Louis can see his bicep tense but he doesn't stop fucking himself with the plug, since Louis hasn't told him to yet. "Kneeling on the floor with nothing but a collar on, with a blindfold _you_ put so you can't even see me and _three strangers_ watching you play with yourself?"

Harry stretches his neck even more, soft sounds tumbling from his slack mouth. Not being able to see his shiny eyes just makes Louis more focused on his perfect lips, pink and full and soft. "Please," Harry whispers, like that might mean something to Louis. It kind of does.

"I don't think you'd even want to see yourself like this. So needy and eager, you wouldn't know what to do." He leans in, close enough to whisper in his ear but extremely careful not to touch his bare skin. "I'm gonna film you like this, but won't let you watch. It'll be just for me, and anyone else I'll show it to. Other doms who come to learn from us. Zayn. Niall. People you know and complete strangers will see how desperate you are."

That does it. Harry whines and shakes, dropping just from Louis's voice. " _Please_ ," he repeats in his deep voice, hand moving so clumsily Louis wants to call him on it.

"Please what?" Louis asks sternly, tugging on the collar just enough to unbalance Harry even more. His back curves and arches like the only things keeping him from dropping to the floor are Louis's one finger and the plug working into him.

"Touch, please, Daddy." He's less coherent than he usually is before Louis even lays a hand on him, which reaffirms what a _fantastic_ decision it was to come here. Harry laps up the attention, he's glowing with the knowledge there are four pairs of eyes on him.

"You want Daddy to touch you?" he asks. Harry nods so furiously his hair flutters around his face. "Wanna feel me? Wanna suck on my fingers? Want me to fuck the plug in for you?" he asks, right against his ear, and makes Harry grunt brokenly. "Why would I do that, H? You haven't even made _anyone_ come yet."

"Please, I can, please," he promises, licking his lips over and over.

Louis wants to keep teasing him, but it looks like the one elbow supporting him is close to buckling. He looks up to find all three guys standing around, awkwardly palming themselves. He lifts two fingers and then beckons them closer. Each of them points to himself, like they're asking _me?_ and Louis rolls his eyes and looks back to Harry.

He lets go of his collar, and even though Harry couldn't feel him in the first place, he nearly collapses at the loss. "You can stop fucking yourself. Sit on your haunches and straighten your back like a good boy."

Harry lets out a long moan when he settles on his arse and the plug nudges deeper inside himself. Louis isn't shocked to finally see how hard he is, but it's difficult to look away all the same. His hands are restless on his own thighs but other than that he's nice and still. Louis stands up and takes a step back, motioning for Jake and Chris to take his place in front of Harry. They're looking down at Harry's pretty, straining form appreciatively and Louis likes that.

He kisses Jake first, eliciting a surprised sound out of him, but Jake melts into it soon enough, kissing back and humming happily when Louis unzips his jeans and pushes them down. He didn't really touch Zayn like this, but it feels right to wrap his hand around Jake's cock now. If anything's going inside Harry, Louis needs to check he's getting the best. Jake is on the small side—though maybe that's unfair, since Louis's comparing him to Harry's ridiculous size. The important part is that he's rather loud, kissing Louis wetly when he starts jerking him to full hardness roughly.

It's important because Harry can hear them, and he adds his own pathetic noises to the mix, must be frustrated by Louis touching someone else without even getting to see it. For Harry, frustrated means rocking back subtly on the plug, so Louis doesn't really feel bad for asking loudly _how's that?_ , only to have Jake nipping his lips and saying, "Good."

"You want his mouth?" he asks, again loud enough for Harry to hear and audibly gulp in anticipation for the answer.

"Fuck yeah," Jake answers, moving down to kiss Louis's throat, but Louis shakes him off. He doesn't want anyone but Harry leaving marks on him.

"Go ahead. Do you?" he asks Chris, sidestepping Jake to unbuckle Chris's belt and draw him closer. He looks more awed than Jake, so Louis doesn't kiss him, just undresses him while they watch Jake bury a hand in Harry's hair and pull his face to his crotch.

Harry's hesitant about it, doesn't open his mouth when Jake rubs the head of his cock over his puffy lips. Louis wonders if maybe he wants something else. Or maybe he's waiting for Louis. "Open up, baby. Make him come and maybe I'll touch you. Make both of them come and you might even get a kiss."

Louis can only watch fondly as Harry sucks almost Jake's entire length into his mouth. He makes a show of it, hollowing his cheeks and working his throat over him. Louis's never seen him do it from this angle, and thinks that's kind of a shame. He looks beautiful and eager and like he's going to scratch his own thighs raw. Louis leads Chris to stand next to Jake and then crouches, breathing right in Harry's ear and making him stutter over the cock in his mouth. "You want more?"

Harry pulls off completely, breathing hard over Jake's wet cock and whispering, "Yes."

Jake's hand tightens in Harry's hair, but Louis shoots him a warning glance that makes Jake instantly unclench. "What do you say?" he asks Harry.

Harry buries his face in Jake's hip, like he's trying to get away from Louis's voice, like it hurts to be so close but not touching. "Please, Daddy."

Louis clicks his tongue. "Not me."

Harry shivers from the disapproval in his tone. He tilts his face up, blindly seeking Jake or literally anyone else for that matter. "Please, Sir."

Louis doesn't tell him he's a good boy, not yet, but he does ask Chris to take Harry's hand and put it on himself. He's magnanimous like that. Harry actually smiles, happier than ever with a cock in each hand. Louis nudges Jake, who in turn grabs Harry's hair again and pulls him down his cock. It's not enough. He puts a hand on the small of Jake's back and pushes him, fucking Harry's mouth without even touching him.

They don't really need help from there. Jake knows what he's doing, thrusting his hips shallowly at a pace that makes Harry's hand fly over Chris's cock. Louis never thought it would be this hot to watch his boyfriend double team two strangers, but it's a bit stunning to see him like this. Harry's focused and determined, somehow knowing to switch between them, get a taste of both. It's around the time he squeezes both of them flush together to kiss their tips at the same time, that Louis has to press a hand down on himself and relieve the aching tension.

Louis's so familiar with Harry's technique, with the way he likes to kiss and lick down the shaft to show that _he's_ enjoying it, that he's not just waiting to suck and get it over with. Not that he doesn't suck. He sucks hard enough that Louis feels the phantom of his tight mouth on himself. He bobs his head fast, like he can't bear to be on one dick for long now that he has _two_ , and god, Louis wants to give him five, _ten_ , wants to line them all up and lead Harry by the hair until he's got so much come on his face it drips down his chin.

He's _good_ , and he's _his_ , and now two other people know it and Louis's so proud he's tempted to touch Harry right now, to twist his nipples and scratch down his abs and grab his stiff cock, pump him with two hands. He tears his eyes away from Harry's face and suddenly notices Matt, sitting across from them and jerking off slowly. His hands are big and his cock is too, and Louis's skin gets hotter just thinking.

He walks over and nudges Matt with his foot, making him look up in surprise. "Guess you're getting hips," he tells him. He didn't think Harry would even hear him, occupied as he is with two cocks in his face, but he obviously did because he moans and spreads his knees. It lowers him a little, makes Jake's tattooed hand fist his hair and pull him back up to deepthroat him. Harry moans again, just from that. Louis has to give him more and see what happens.

Matt crawls over to Harry, and Louis goes the other way, grabs a few condoms and lube from the complimentary bowl, and the short length of rope Harry'd gotten them. When he turns back around the scene has changed significantly: Chris's cock is so deep that Harry's nose is pressed to his groin, but he's not jerking Jake off, because Matt's holding both his wrists behind his sweaty back as if he'd read Louis's mind. The most dramatic part, though, is the fact Matt's face is buried in Harry's arse.

Arousal shoots through Louis at the sight, how bad Harry's quivering, how loud he is even through a dick in his mouth. How, when Louis drops the rope next to him and Matt draws back, Louis can see the plug is _still_ in Harry, and the area around it is wet and pink. Matt's a bit of a genius. Harry seems to agree—he pulls off Chris's cock with a pop and between ragged breaths he moans, " _Sir_ , please," and spreads his knees even wider, thrusting his arse out.

Louis feels faintly annoyed, wants to spank Harry, wants to pull the plug out and fuck into him in one go, wants to tug the collar just hard enough, but he can't do _any_ of that so he ends up sinking to his knees and dragging Matt in for a hard kiss. He fucks his tongue into his mouth roughly, likes that Matt growls a little and bites his lip, but mostly likes that he can taste Harry on him. It's starting to physically ache, how much he needs to touch Harry, but it's not about him. So he takes it out on Matt, mostly.

He gasps when Matt grabs his arse and hauls him right against him, grinding into his thigh. It brings his own cock against Matt's thigh, and he ends up gasping again, pleasure almost shocking him after so long without friction. He can't help but push back when Matt's hand sneaks between his thighs from behind. The leather is so tight it feels like Matt's big hand is directly on his skin when he presses up on his balls. "Does Daddy need a hand?"

" _Fuck_ ," Chris says for one disorienting moment, and Louis stops kissing Matt just in time to watch Chris pull out of Harry's mouth and come on his upturned face. He can't see where the come landed, but before he can move Jake grabs Harry's chin roughly and turns him towards him. He doesn't give Harry a chance to catch his breath before he thrusts right in. Louis might have worried if he didn't have a front row view of the plug shifting a little when Harry must have clenched hard around it.

He could kiss Chris, honestly. One orgasm down, Louis can finally allow himself to touch Harry. He starts with his arse, a gentle caress followed by a squeeze. He has no idea how Harry realised it was him and not anyone else in the room, but he does, whining louder than he had with a tongue over his rim. It's extremely satisfying. He scratches up his heaving back, skipping over where his hands are still clasped behind his back where Matt's put them. He's grateful for the fact he can't see Harry's face, not sure how he would've dealt with his swollen lips and sweaty fringe and rosy cheeks. Especially since Chris seems to be rubbing his spent cock into Harry's come-covered cheek. He's _such_ a good boy, fuck. "Well don't stop now," he spits, twisting his nipple hard. "Good boys finish what they start."

Harry doesn't need more than that. He sucks around Jake noisily, making him throw his head back and moan. With Harry distracted, and Louis a little less desperate to touch, he turns back to Matt. He's gone back to wanking off, and he looks more focused on Louis than on Harry now, which. Is flattering, but. Louis picks the rope up and dangles it in front of his face. "Show me how."

Matt takes it and scoots over so they're both kneeling directly behind Harry. "Up to his elbows?"

Louis hums. "Could you still fuck him?"

Matt clears his throat at that, hands tightening on the rope. "Yeah. If you want him to keep sucking I could hold him upright. Or you could."

"Yeah? Think he earned it?"

Predictably, Harry rolls his body, his heels digging into his arse. He's trying his hardest to actually bring his elbows together, to prove that he has. Matt doesn't answer, picking up the right cue. Louis grabs Harry's wrists without answering either. "You start by wrapping it twice around the wrists, right?"

Matt nods, and starts explaining. Louis lets him take over the actual bondage and just listens, tries to memorise it. _Wrap twice, leave enough room, cross the bight with the leftover rope parallel to the arms, pass it to the other side—_ He spanks Harry distractedly, hissing out, "Stay quiet if you want me to tie you up after this," because Harry started whimpering as soon as the rope went over his anchor tattoo the first time. He whimpers even louder at the smack, but hurries to keep his mouth occupied with cock.

Only when his forearms are tied does Louis do the honours of taking the plug out. Matt's hands keep his cheeks spread and Louis can see his pinked up hole fluttering around nothing. It's amazing, but he looks amazing everywhere—his strong biceps stretched and his shoulder blades popping and his thighs quivering. "Go ahead and take him," Louis decides, spanking Harry one more time and then shuffling away to watch.

Matt grabs Harry's hips and lifts him up so he's kneeling properly. It jostles Harry enough that Jake lets him off his cock for a moment. Harry sounds a bit garbled for a moment, like he himself hasn't realised that his mouth is free. The moment he catches up, though, he leans all his weight on Jake's leg and mouths at his hips, moaning _yes_ and _yes_ and _yes_. Louis has to pinch himself to look away from Harry's gorgeous face, just to make sure Matt puts a condom on and lubes up.

He can't actually watch the first slide in. He hasn't with Zayn, and he doesn't feel particularly eager to now. Instead he stands up and walks over to the bag, taking off his shirt and pulling out his phone. He flops on the bed then, groaning as he stretches out his sore leg muscles. The others are close enough to the foot of it that he can just lean back on a few pillows and record comfortably. It makes him feel superior, in a way, even though no one's touching him.

Matt's fucking Harry smooth and slow, so he can just focus on keeping his mouth open for Jake's cock. Chris is between them, holding Harry up with a firm hand on his shoulder. When they talked about doing this for the very first time, Harry said the appeal for him was being shared with other doms while Louis directed the whole thing, because he's the one he really wanted to please. Right now, lounging about and filming Harry being fucked from both sides, Louis feels like he's fulfilling that. He feels like jerking off.

Jake's losing his rhythm, he must be close now. Louis sees tears start rolling down under the fabric of Harry's blindfold, and he looks so fucking gone and perfect that Louis's physically drawn to him, like a magnetic pull. He kneels again, by Harry's head this time, so he can finally address him. "Does it feel good, baby? Getting wrecked like this, cock in every hole?"

Harry's body seizes up, making Matt grunt and fuck him harder, practically shoving him down Jake's cock. All at the sound of his voice, Louis thinks smugly. "You're making them feel so good, aren't you?"

Harry moans again, and Jake keeps cursing. Louis squeezes Jake's foot to make him open his eyes, and then nods at him. Instantly, Jake starts to babble, "Fuck, your mouth— _fuck_ —you're fantastic."

Harry shivers again, struggling against the bonds and rocking his hips back against Matt. Louis's caught by surprise when Matt starts talking then. He must have taken Jake's compliments as permission to address Harry himself, and Louis kind of wants to kill him when he says, "You're so tight, kitten," and fucks him roughly. "Aren't you a pretty slut?"

It startles Harry too—that's not their usual vocabulary—and the only thing keeping Louis from punching Matt in the mouth is the unavoidable fact Harry's cock spurts pre-come and he _shudders_ and leaves Jake's cock to whine, raspy and devastated, " _Daddy_."

Louis can't stay furious when faced with _that_. He leans close to Harry's ear and whispers sweetly, "Well you are, aren't you? Daddy's pretty thing, getting so fucked up for me."

The unthinkable happens.

Louis didn't really know what to expect—he wanted the other guys talking just to rile Harry up, to show that it wasn't their approval he needed to get off. But as soon as he hears _Louis's_ approval, as soon as he feels Louis touch him—not fuck his arse, not fuck his throat, not even brush his cock, just a gentle hand on his shoulder—Harry _comes_ with a shout.

They all kind of pause, stunned and breathless. Louis barely waits for him to stop shooting before the words are out of his mouth: "You really shouldn't have done that, Harry. That's the last time you'll be coming tonight."

When Harry finishes he goes limp, like the only thing keeping him up is Chris's arm. He's sniffling a little, so when Louis says, "Everyone get away from him," it's not part of a punishment. He just doesn't want anyone touching him right now.

They do it, admirably enough. Jake's so hard his wet cock slaps against his skin, and Matt struggles to slip the condom off. Louis doesn't really care. With no one supporting him, Harry collapses to the floor, mortified. Louis tuts, trying to stay in character while his heart hammers in his chest. Was it too much? Was Harry too embarrassed to word out in front of the others? Did Louis push him too far again?

Louis actually lies down next to him, doesn't care about being Dominant or whatever. He wants to pet him, wants to kiss his wet cheeks and bruised lips, but he doesn't know if Harry wants to keep the game going or not. So he touches the collar, instead, and as an afterthought he takes off the blindfold. Harry keeps his face planted in the floor, and he's mumbling to himself. Louis can't take not knowing where he's at. "Baby, look at me."

At least Harry still listens. Very hesitantly, he turns his head and blinks his eyes open. He wasn't crying, but when he sees Louis he gets a bit teary. The mumbling becomes clear. "Sorry, I'm so sorry, Daddy, I didn't mean to, I tried so hard but I couldn't—"

"Shh, I know you didn't mean to, you're a good boy, you showed me so many times how good you can be," he says frantically, touching his forehead to Harry's and making him close his eyes and hiccup miserably.

"'m not," he whispers darkly.

"You _are_ ," Louis stresses, putting a heavy, comforting hand on Harry's collar. "You're _my_ good boy, my perfect boy. I don't care who touches you, I know you're mine and I know you're good. Don't need to prove anything. Open your eyes, darling."

Harry does, slow and guilty. "I'm sorry."

"Do you want to stop?" Louis asks gently.

Harry surprises him by shaking his head straight away. "Green, I—if that's okay."

Louis nearly sighs in relief. "Of course it's okay, love. We've all been enjoying ourselves. Or, well, you."

"Until I misbehaved," Harry says with a frown.

Louis makes a guess. "Do you want to be punished? Would that make it better?"

"Oh! Oh, yes, please," Harry says, face lighting up.

Louis's heart stops racing finally. He can think a bit clearer. "A paddling, maybe? You'll count until I think you've had enough."

Harry nods with shiny eyes, then bites his lip like he doesn't want to seem too up for it. Right. Punishment he can deliver. He lets his face harden, and Harry still looks guilty but he's got his eagerness back. Louis unfolds the headscarf all the way, and then presses it to Harry's stomach. Harry instantly tries to shuffle closer, as much as he can with his arms tied. "Still," Louis barks, and Harry stills.

He looks down to make sure he's mopped up all the come but what was left on his cock, and then he spreads the headscarf on the floor wet side up and stands. Harry can't see him without rolling over to his back, so before he tries it, Louis taps his shoulder with his foot and turns him on his stomach instead, so the come that landed him his punishment is right in his face. He lets him deal with that for a moment, while he looks up. Jake, Matt and Chris are all on the bed, watching them curiously. Louis slips right back into his performance.

"You," he starts, pointing at Matt. "Untie him as fast as you can. And you," he puts his foot right between Harry's shoulder blades, pushing until his face is an inch away from the headscarf. "Lick up the come until your arms are free. Once they are, stop, fold the scarf and tie it around your face again." He pushes again and says the next part a bit more strictly than necessary, "I want it to stick to your skin and remind you why you're being punished."

It sounds like everyone in the room makes a different kind of noise. Matt jumps from the bed to do as he was told, and Louis takes his place, leaning his chin on his knee. Chris is staring at Harry, but when he realises Louis's looking at him he looks back. "Um?"

Louis smiles in what he hopes looks like a trustworthy manner. Very quietly, he asks, "Do you remember watching me at the workshop?"

Chris nods suspiciously. Louis continues, "So you know I'm good at impact play?"

"Yeah," Chris agrees, glancing at Louis's hands automatically. Louis cracks his knuckles.

"And how do you feel about having your face fucked?"

"Sure," he answers, looking at Louis's crotch now. Which, very tempting considering the fact he's still fucking trapped in his stupid leather trousers, but not now.

"How about you help me out then? We'll have him facing the wall with his bum sticking out. I'll paddle him, and you'll be between him and the wall and suck him off."

"At the same time?" Jake cuts in over Chris's shoulder, eyes wide.

"Shh," Louis warns, though he's convinced Harry can't hear them. "Yeah, at the same time."

Chris brings his hand up to bite his knuckles, maybe a nervous habit. "He seems sensitive."

"Oh, he won't move. He can take a paddle, and neither of us actually wants to concuss you. He certainly wouldn't want to fuck up again."

"No, I meant—his dick. It'll hurt him."

Louis blinks.

Chris gets it after a moment. "Right. I guess that's the point. Sure, why not?"

Louis claps him on the shoulder. "Good lad."

"What about me?" Jake asks, jokingly adding, "You cheated me out of a fucking good orgasm earlier."

Louis gasps dramatically and thumps over his heart. "My _sincerest_ apologies. You'll fuck him after, how's that sound?"

Jake pumps his fist. Louis leans over Chris to kiss him, just because. It's not very long. They're got a plan to execute.

If Louis's good at impact play, Harry's brilliant at taking it. Without Louis having to ask, he knows to stand facing the wall with his hands clasped behind his head. It's uncomfortable, makes his muscles tense and his cheek press into the wall, but it reminds him that he's getting punished. He likes being uncomfortable, and Louis's all about embracing what Harry likes.

He doesn't correct his posture, other than grabbing his hips and pulling him away from the wall, so he's bent a little awkwardly and a lot perfect. He just looks so pretty, his pert little arse pushed out and his strong muscles rippling. Louis loves seeing Harry's muscles work, it always makes him feel more… powerful for controlling all that. For putting a single finger on Harry's shoulder and making his elbows drop. For spanking him lightly as warm-up and making him sigh in _contentment_.

"Hands against the wall," Louis decides, and Harry's so quick to obey he doesn't really notice Chris crawling between his spread legs. Harry's at a good enough distance from the wall that Chris can lean back comfortably. At least, that's what Louis hopes. He's more focused on Harry's perky bum, nice and soft under his hand. He starts slow, like always, but this time it's not about giving Harry attention, it's about _punishing_ him. Louis gives it to him backhanded, digs his knuckles right in and makes Harry gasp in pain. He gives him five more, and then nudges Chris's foot.

It's fucking beautiful when it happens. He slaps Harry with his palm hard, landing a loud one that leaves a good print and makes Harry's hips fly forward—right at Chris's face. Louis can't see it, can't know how Chris held him to fit into his mouth, and he wishes he could, but instead he gets to stand right behind Harry when he _whimpers_ in shock, instead he gets to give him five ringing smacks instead of letting him get used to the fact there's a mouth on his cock. All at once Harry's making a new variety of sounds, whining and desperate, and Louis's using his own momentum to hit him, so he doesn't really need to focus on what he's doing. He can just think about Harry mashing his own face into the wall because if he tries to pull back from Louis's sharp slaps he only goes deeper into wet heat, and not only is he still too oversensitive for it, he doesn't think he _deserves_ it.

That's _lovely_. Louis grabs a fistful of his hair and steps closer to him, so he can't really swing his arm but his smacks gets faster, and Harry's arse gets redder. He also has no escape from Chris's mouth on him, keeps getting jostled back and forth, keeps whining, keeps still and perfect. It's just his _hand_. Louis plasters himself to Harry's side, which only makes him turn up the volume, overwhelms Harry with so much attention. "Do you like this, baby? Having to get hard again after letting me down? Do you think you're pleasing anyone right now?"

Harry shakes his head, causing Louis to tug on his hair. "You're not," Louis clarifies. "Two people were fucking you and you came before either of them could, _and_ without permission. Your punishment hasn't even started."

"Punish me, please, _please_ Daddy, I need—"

"Shh," Louis hisses, running a single finger over Harry's skin. It's pink and tender now. Louis won't last long with the paddle, but he'll damn well make it count. The respite from the spanking makes the only thing in the room louder than Harry's tortured moans the cause of them—Chris slurping around his cock. "Is he hard?"

A wet pop later, Chris answers, "Yeah, very."

Louis hums. "Is he clean?"

Harry makes a muffled sound, and Louis strains to hear Chris sucking on him. "Squeaky."

"Good." It might be the first nice thing Louis said about him since he came unexpectedly, and Harry sighs and tries to tilt his face and nuzzle into Louis's hand. Louis doesn't let him. He slaps him one last time, then keeps his hand on his crack, slipping his middle finger between his cheeks. He tilts Harry's head toward him by the hair and says harshly, "Still dirty, aren't you? Still want it?"

Harry doesn't beg again, barely manages more than a weak moan and a nod that tightens Louis's hand in his hair. When Louis steps back, Harry slumps into the wall, and then grunts brokenly and shuffles away, probably from Chris's mouth. Louis has the best ideas.

He walks over to their bag, and nearly stumbles when he sees Matt balls-deep in Jake's arse, lying on the bed at an angle that enables both of them to see Harry. Louis clears his throat for their attention, and swings the paddle against his palm. It's one they brought from home—with the shape of an L cut out in the middle. "Don't come," he says in warning.

He was addressing Jake, but Harry answers faster, babbling _won't I swear Daddy please_ and suddenly Louis can't even look anywhere but at Harry. He comes closer again, fingers naturally tangling in Harry's sweaty curls. "You're not getting him as a prize," he clarifies. "You need to show me how still you can stay, while I'm paddling you as hard as I like. You don't get to choke anyone today. Most important, you need to _not come_."

"I _won't_ ," Harry says again, and he might have sounded offended if it weren't for the wobble in his voice, convincing Louis that Chris's right on board with them.

Louis takes his stance, perpendicular to Harry. He smacks his own hand a few times, wants Harry to get used to the sound in his blind state, and then he finally goes for his arse. There's a tense moment right after, where all three—or five—of them are waiting for concussions or something, but before Louis's even ready to swing again, Harry moans _one_ like he wants to moan _more_ , and Louis knows Chris is back to blowing him.

"Good boy," Louis says, before landing a hard smack again. His eyes are glued to Harry's pale skin, momentarily branded with an _L_ , but he's distracted by Harry's sweet whimpers. Harry always wants this so much, would have Louis working him for a whole hour if he could, but right now he's so sensitive from all the stimulation he's getting, he can barely keep the count and keep his hips still. It just makes him stretch his long legs and clench the muscles of his arse, just makes it hurt more when Louis strikes him evenly, _three_ , _four_ , he's sobbing out the numbers now, and Louis wants to make it even harder for him. "How does it feel, Harry? How are we making you feel?"

Harry doesn't answer, so Louis stops hitting him, using the short break to wring his hands. As soon as Harry connects the effect with the cause, he's talking like he can't get enough air in. "Feels like I'm on fire, god— _five_ —wanna get fucked ag—six… 's hard not to push into Sir but I'm— _s-seven_ —fuck, Daddy, _fuck_."

He lowers the paddle again, runs a soft hand over Harry's arse. He loves this, loves feeling Harry warm and sensitive like this, loves knowing he's the one who got him there. It's never more obvious than it is with the paddle. His initial is right there, right fucking there. Maybe he should just give in and let Harry tattoo the L he wants so much on his thigh. "Does it hurt, darling?"

"Yeah," Harry says, gasping the word out like he's drawing pleasure just from acknowledging it. "So much."

"Too much?" Louis asks, subtly digging his fingertips in and watching as the skin goes from red to white around his fingernails.

"Won't come without your word, I _won't_ ," Harry insists desperately, as if that's the only conceivable result of _too much pain_ , and even Louis's surprised sometimes. He doesn't know what forces brought the two of them together in a sex shop two years ago, but whatever it was deserves, like, offerings.

He loves him so much he feels like he can't take it anymore. Feeling this connected to Harry while a virtual stranger is sucking his dick is a bit weird, maybe, but Louis's way beyond that. He lifts the paddle again and hits Harry without warning, making him rise on his tiptoes just to keep from thrusting forward. He's so beautiful like this, holding himself together just for Louis. He deserves Louis's hardest smacks, not because he's been bad like he tells him, but because he's being _good_. He's always so fucking good.

Louis stops at sixteen, when Harry starts sniffling. He doesn't want to lose him too soon. He drops the paddle but doesn't tell Harry to move. Harry doesn't seem to even notice yet, still reeling from the pain and whining to himself. It takes Louis a full minute to convince himself to look away from the L imprint on Harry's left arsecheek, and then another moment to actually make his legs move. He grabs another tube of lube from the bowl by the closet, and then returns to Harry's spot by the wall.

Chris has been sucking him consistently, eliciting all sorts of sounds, but when Louis thrusts two slick fingers into Harry he _keens_ and arches his back. Louis doesn't know if it's the sudden stretch or the way his knuckles graze his sore skin or the mere fact his daddy's touching him, but either way it's beautiful and it doesn't stop, not when Louis pulls out to get even more lube, and certainly not when he sinks back in with three fingers.

He takes his time, because it gets kind of addictive at a certain point. Harry's _thrilled_ to be touched by him, keeps thanking him for his punishment and now for his fingers, until he trails off into incoherent groans when Louis presses hard against his spot and Chris—Chris keeps blowing him. Louis's _so_ proud of him for not coming yet, he spanks the reddest spots on his arse, his hand over his initial over hot skin. It doesn't even sound like Harry's struggling with it—he might have sailed past the point of coming. He's just giving himself over to Louis, to both of them. "So beautiful," Louis growls in his ear, spreading his fingers as much as he can and making Harry clench around him and cry out into the wall. "Doing so well for me."

"Daddy," Harry mumbles wetly, not really asking for anything. Louis doesn't really give him anything. He'd have stopped prepping him minutes ago, but he likes fingering him, likes pushing him, making him show that he can take it, to himself more than to Louis. Harry just feels so hot and wet, with all the lube Louis's used, he feels like home and he feels like he's been fucked twice today already, he feels like he's had a big plug in him for a couple of hours, he feels like Louis has come inside him, he feels perfect and claimed and _his his his_.

He feels ready.

Louis withdraws his fingers with a particular hard jab to his spot, and then tugs him away from the wall. Harry goes like he's weightless, delicate and graceless on his feet. Louis wants to kiss him, but Harry can't even close his mouth, he's breathing so hard. He looks so flustered, cheeks red and hair wild and lips puffy. Louis still wants to punish him, just a bit. He glances at the bed, where, conveniently enough, Matt and Jake have stopped fucking and made room for them to lie down.

Louis keeps a steadying hand on Harry's lower back as he leads him to the bed, but his eyes are on Jake, hard and just the right size for an idea that Louis's been toying with. Since the last thing Louis wants is to give Harry a head's up, he has to communicate with Jake through hand gestures that make him feel like some sergeant in the army. Eventually he gets Jake lying down the length of the bed, and he sits Harry down on Jake's thighs.

Louis finally, finally, finally takes off all his clothes. He finds a towel, scrubs down his sweaty skin, and then it's like he can _feel_ three pairs of eyes tracking him every move. He feels hot, in both senses, and has to give his achingly hard cock a decent squeeze before he can even climb on the bed himself and return his attention to Harry.

To wind him up just a little more, Louis knees around Harry and then straddles Jake's stomach facing Harry. He both kisses him and reaches around to slip two fingers inside him again, scissoring him open and licking into his mouth. Harry falls into him, crashing their chests together and moaning against his lips. He's sweaty and shivering and the realisation they haven't been this close all night whips through Louis. He can't get enough, now, grabbing and squeezing Harry's aching arse, rubbing over his prostate again and again, doing everything but touching his red, dribbling cock.

The angles must have confused him enough that he thought he was straddling Louis, and Louis feels perversely smug when he lowers Harry on Jake's cock and Harry just lets out a breathless, "Daddy?" because of course he can tell. Louis kisses him again, good and hard, and then tugs Harry's cock and whispers for him to stay good.

He's startled out of kissing Harry when he feels Jake's hands clamping on his hips, and he nearly apologises, figures he might have been crushing his sternum, but then Jake actually moves him, up and over his _face_ , and _oh god_ , he spreads him open and gives his crack a long lick, from his balls to his tailbone, and Louis—his vision goes blurry, fuck, he hasn't felt _anything_ all night, and now to get a tongue-fuck is—" _Fucking_ hell," Louis moans, shivering and pushing back automatically.

Harry reaches out to him, and Louis grabs his hands, figuring he needs leverage as he starts to move. It's amazing to watch—Harry's long, lean body sinking and lifting so fluidly, like it's effortless. His muscles are all clenched, tattoos rippling under droplets of sweat, and Louis's gaze drops down and— _Christ_ , it's hard to focus with the tip of Jake's tongue teasing him, but it's hard to even blink and lose sight of Harry riding a dick right in front of him. His hips move like they only do in the bedroom or on stage, like he was made for this, sputtering and shaking and pumping forward like he's drawn to _Louis_.

Louis's so attuned to him it catches him by surprise when Jake uses two fingers to spread his hole and then plunges right in with his tongue, god, _god_ , he's not fucking shy about it like a stranger should be, or reverent about it like Harry always is, he thrusts in hard and purposeful and so fucking good Louis's choking on it. His eyes have unconsciously drifted shut, so he can be excused for actually shouting when he feels Harry's cheek pressed right to his cock.

His eyes fly open and he sees that Harry's collapsed on top of Jake, that he wasn't trying to use Louis to stable himself at all, he was just looking for something to put in his mouth. For Louis. He's sloppy because of the blindfold—and probably the cock up his arse—but that makes it so much hotter because he's so eager for it Louis feels the whiplash. He can't help but thrust up, rubbing his own cock against Harry's cheekbone and letting the wet tip snag on his soft soft curls.

With every clumsy move and slurp Harry gets closer, kissing and licking along his shaft until finally his lips wrap around him and Louis actually feels lightheaded with arousal for a moment, trapped between Harry's tight mouth sucking him in greedily and Jake's ruthless tongue working him open. _Now_ Louis could die a happy man. An _ecstatic_ man.

Harry's more eager than possibly ever, after sucking two cocks that weren't Louis's, like he's extra gratified by directly pleasing Louis, or like he's comforted by how familiar this is (as he should be, fuck, sometimes Louis wakes him up by tapping on his lips with his cock when he's still _soft_ and Harry doesn't even open his eyes before he starts sucking). The point is that despite how wrecked he is—despite being paddled and used and fucked, _right now_ , he's getting fucked _right in front of Louis_ —he's the best he's ever been.

Not to mention the steady wet pressure of Jake's tongue wiggling inside him and driving him fucking insane, still spread open by Jake's hands gripping his arse roughly. Louis doesn't even try to stop himself before he moves his hips, gently rocking as smoothly as his current brain capacity lets him, up into Harry's loose mouth and down on Jake's pointed tongue, god, he feels tingly and shivery and amazing, it's _heaven_. "You're so good," he moans, high-pitched and broken. Harry reacts by taking Louis right down to the base, and Jake reacts by snapping his hips, which pushes Harry even _farther_ and his throat is fluttering around him with a silent moan and Louis's losing it embarrassingly fast. He needs to regain control faster.

Talking. Right, talking's always— _Jesus—_ worked for him. He lifts his hands from his shaking thighs and buries them in Harry's hair, careful not to loosen the blindfold. "Bet you're loving this," he says. He'd cringe at how unsteady his own voice sounds, but right now he couldn't be less bothered. Like, maybe if an atomic missile hit the club. For now he can't stop gasping out whatever comes to mind. "Being so well-fucked. Sometimes—" Christ, Jake's sucking on him now, fluttering over his rim, Louis might be _dying_ —"sometimes I think nothing will be enough for you, you're so greedy for it." He's hitting close to home—Harry's making so much noise he's vibrating around him, making so much heat course through him. "Is this enough, baby? My mouthful and a stranger splitting you open? Is this as full as you wanna feel?"

Harry's so overwhelmed by that he actually lifts his head, only to bash his face in Louis's stomach and whine deep in his throat, chanting _god god god_ like he already knows what Louis might be hinting at. If Louis weren't convinced before, he sure as fuck is now. All three of them are close enough that it's now or never. "Gotta beg for it, darling," he insists, but already he's lifting off Jake's face. The way he gulps in air might have been comical if he weren't exhaling directly against Louis's wet and tingly skin.

"Fuck me," Harry rasps, digging his teeth into Louis's stomach. Louis holds his breath until Harry adds, "Daddy, fuck me too."

As hard as it is to stop anyone eating him out, it takes no time at all for Louis to be crouching behind Harry and slipping one finger alongside Jake's cock. It's a tight fit, but Harry's as turned on as he's ever been, and Louis knows for a fact he's taken bigger than this. He goes slow because they've dabbled in this with toys, and didn't need to worry about condoms, but now Louis wants to make sure the friction won't cause it to tear or something.

(Responsible Dom Tommo. He should get a fucking medal.)

Lube seems to solve everything. Louis squeezes enough on his whole hand, and then slides two fingers in. Now that he's less worried, he's free to actually take in what's happening. Jake is lying stock-still on the bed, but Harry—he keeps moving just slightly, his back curling, his neck turning even though he can't see anything, his feet digging into the mattress. More importantly, his _arse_ , his tiny arse stuffed with a cock and Louis's two—now three fingers.

Louis's using so much lube Harry's thighs are slicked up, and he looks so _good_ like this, his body stretched and welcoming and curved and beautiful. He's so caught up in staring intensely at the way Harry's hole stretches around them, he completely misses Harry's nonsensical murmuring, until he hears, "Ready, 'm ready, _please please please_ …"

Christ. While Louis lubes up, he gives into the urge to lean down and give Harry a kiss, right where Jake's cock meets his arse, and both of them moan _Daddy_ and Louis feels completely intoxicated. He spreads his hand over the bottom of Harry's spine as he aims, rubbing up and down to let both of them know he's going in.

It's like nothing he could have imagined. He has to go extremely slow, not even as a conscious consideration, but because Harry's rim is impossibly tight around him. It's not just that, it's not that he's swimming in lube, it's not that Harry's clenching, it's that he can _feel_ Jake's cock right under his, hot and pulsing and _inside Harry_ , his Harry, _making_ him this tight.

It's fucking insane, and all three of them are grunting like animals but Louis isn't even aware of anything but Harry, giving and squeezing and tighter than Louis's ever felt him. He's practically screaming Louis's name, shaking like he's falling apart at the seams, and Louis can imagine how full he feels but he can't imagine how he's coping with it. He's not even sure he actually is, until Louis's in all the way and allows himself to let go of Harry's hip, only to snake his hand to his cock and find him still rock-hard.

Harry cries out again at the contact, but maybe it's a continuous thing, maybe Louis's ears just stopped functioning, his heart pounding way too loudly. It feels like his whole body is thrumming, tiny electric currents rushing through him, it feels so tight it hurts but he _loves_ it, can't get enough friction. Harry's too busy grunting to move, and Jake seems out for the count as well, more of an anchor, so Louis digs his knees into the mattress and thrusts experimentally.

Harry wails again, collapsing forward to bury his face and his sobs in Jake's neck, and Louis _hates_ that, feels possessive in the most inappropriate of moments. He thrusts harder the next time, and every nerve in his body is ready to give into the incredible pleasure, but he fights, just enough to lean forward and hook a finger in Harry's collar, just enough to tug him back roughly and wrap his arm around Harry's shoulders, keep him pressed tight against _him_.

He feels it now, feels every minute reaction to having two cocks driving into Harry. With every inch Louis pushes in Harry thrashes over them, his entire body gone tight and taut and sweaty. Louis might be going deaf from Harry's mewling, but he doesn't pay it any mind because it's the only thing he _wants_ to hear for the rest of his life.

Jake helps by pushing Harry's torso up with both his arms and shoving him back to Louis, and now that Harry doesn't need to support himself, he starts moving his own hips in time with Louis's tiny thrusts. The result is _devastating_. The friction _burns_ and it builds and builds and Louis feels delirious with it, feels powerful for stretching Harry to his limit but helpless with his own pleasure.

Louis bites Harry's shoulder viciously when he fucks into him, one hand on his stomach to keep them together and one hand pumping his cock to help him along. He doesn't think Harry can even hear him over his own loud sounds, but he still talks because how can he not? "So fucking amazing, _fuck_ , Harry—Harry—my—fuck, my tight boy, my good, precious boy, I love you so fucking— _Christ_ , you feel so good for us, I can't even believe you're taking two cocks so well—"

He's convinced Harry can't hear him, but it's still true, it's _fantastic_ , when Louis looks down and sees his cock disappear in Harry's arse and Jake's hips under him, when he feels the solid pressure from Jake and the maddening friction Harry gives and takes and gives and—he can't even breathe, can't see, can't believe this is happening, can't think about the fact Harry's so into it, because he won't last another second.

To his surprise, it's Harry that cracks first. His restless hands scratch Louis's arm hard and he shouts more than he says, " _Daddy_ , gonna— _nngh_ —'m—can't, too c-close— _fucking_ —"

"You won't," Louis reminds him, yanking on his collar again and making him full-out sob. It's hot, it's so hot that Harry even could, but: "You're not coming from this."

"I fucking am," Jake comments, voice shot to hell.

Louis's almost relieved, knowing something this intense won't last forever. He stops thrusting and Harry whines, wriggling over both of them like it's something he does, like he could get comfortable with two cocks inside his tight arse. Louis feels like sobbing himself, particularly when he pulls out and uses all the strength he has left to lift Harry off of Jake and throw him on the bed, facing up. Harry stretches all out, kicking both of them but Louis doesn't tell him off because he looks like he needs it, has to stretch and clench and keep his body moving because he just went from sixty to zero and still has to struggle not to come. Louis surprises himself by not coming just from the sight of Harry spread out and begging, but he has a clear picture of how this night ends. Just a bit more.

Jake kicks him intentionally, and Louis doesn't even give him time to grumble about _cheating_ before he barks out, "Come on him."

To his surprise, _all_ of them shuffle over. It's not that he's forgotten about Chris and Matt, except for when he did. Right now he couldn't be more grateful, can't think of anything Harry might want more. He grabs Harry's ankles and lifts them, so Jake can jerk off right against his arse—raw and fucking destroyed—while Matt goes for his butterfly tattoo and Chris settles by his face.

The Harry magic must be in full effect, since they all come at once, shooting all over Harry's overworked and overfucked body. Harry gasps gruffly, first in surprise and then in—Louis doesn't know, doesn't have a clue what's going through his head in this moment, with three men he barely caught a glimpse of covering him with their come, after they fucked his arse and throat, after Louis tied him up and paddled him and stretched him more than he's ever been stretched.

Whatever it is, it takes him deeper than Louis's ever seen him. He's messy and broken and _perfection_ , and the other guys just know to shuffle back once they're done. Louis comes closer, almost honoured and awe-struck by Harry's flushed body. He grabs his ankles and hitches his legs over his shoulders, but no, it's wrong—it's right but—he leans forward as he fucks into him, and finally removes his blindfold.

Louis swears to god they share this moment of clarity when their eyes meet. Harry's are shiny and dark but still expressive, still _I love you forever_ even while his body is screaming _tear me apart and finish me off_. Louis buries one hand in his thick, damp hair, and hooks one finger under his collar, so he can both feel his raging pulse and the leather Louis put on him. The sudden touch springs something to life in Harry, and he starts whispering hoarsely _I can't, I can't, Daddy Daddy Daddy_ and Louis realises the problem now is that he doesn't think he'll even be able to come without Louis's word, and it might even be hotter than watching him take two cocks. "We're gonna count to three and we're gonna come together," he says.

It wasn't a request, but Harry still nods wildly, unblinking now that he can see again. He's staring at Louis like he's the whole world, like he's the only thing he'll ever need for his entire life, like Louis's given him all he could want and more, and there's another person's come splattered on his cheeks but Louis _gets it_. Louis _feels_ like they're the only two people in the whole world, and in this bizarre, out-of-body moment Louis remembers _Perrie's_ jibe from earlier, _you just shared him with the whole world, and now you're reconnecting by sharing him with other doms_ , and he knows she got it wrong. He never shared Harry with anyone. Harry can sing and dance to millions, can be shuffled along by swarms, can _get fucked_ , and still no one will come close to touching his heart. That's more than fucking enough.

"One," he starts, not even fucking Harry, not close to touching his cock. He lays into him deep and just stays there, enveloped in his heat, mesmerised by the sight of him. Harry looks beyond fucked out, and so _frustrated_ he's clawing at Louis's back, pushing him to count faster because only when Louis comes will he really be satisfied. Louis loves him so much he feels his heart in his throat.

"Two," he says right against Harry's sticky lips, before leaning in for an open-mouthed, messy kiss. They're too breathless to put any effort into it, but it makes Louis feel even closer to him, deeper than he already is, and he's going to _burst_ if he doesn't—" _Three_."

Harry screams even louder than before when he comes on command, perfect boy that he is, his back arching so sharply it looks like he's possessed. Louis spills inside him for what feels like ages, milking and milking through the aftershocks because this feels like the longest session he's ever had, and the orgy wasn't even the most overwhelming part.

It was all Harry. It always is.

* * *

 

 **_Eight months later_ **

Harry waits an admirable hour and fifteen minutes after saying goodbye to Louis before he opens up a text to him. He's got a toddler on his lap, a plug in his arse, and twenty-thousand people to sing for in the evening, but his thoughts, as always, are on Louis.

  
([x](https://41.media.tumblr.com/65201c3c061db49cbbd9b04defe3afbc/tumblr_nqeaj4eKG91uxvan6o8_r1_1280.png))

Lux finally grabs Harry's phone from him and presses most of the buttons at once.

"Wanna draw a picture," she pouts.

Harry snorts and looks up at Lou. "She's going to be angling for her own phone in a year or so at this rate."

"She's already asked." Lou pulls an iPad out of her bag and sets it on the floor in front of Lux, opened to a drawing app. "What can you do?"

Harry watches Lux start to draw some stick figures for a moment before he frowns.

"Shouldn't you be worried about, like, brain cancer or something?"

Lou rolls her eyes. "Save the backseat parenting for when you've got your own little terror running around looking for amusement."

Harry hums noncommittally. Lou's joking, but… Harry takes a quick selfie of himself kissing the thick silver band around his ring finger and send a series of xs to Louis. He's got his boy on tour with him and his ring on his finger. Anything's possible.

*

It hadn't been the _worst_ thing in the world, leaving Louis in England when Harry used to go on tour. There may be a few hurricanes or military conflicts that rank worse in Harry's book. Most natural disasters don't have the built-in perk of reunion sex, for example. It had been amazing to have Louis back in his arms after weeks apart—after all, their first separation had been the reason Niall had brought the sex dice into their lives, and Harry and Louis have resolved to commemorate the anniversary of that auspicious day by baking a cake that’s a life-size version of Niall. But there's nothing in the world that compares to having Louis _there_ , with him, watching with a smile while Harry warms up with his vocal coach, picking out a plug for him to wear in the morning, rolling his eyes at _hipsters and their plaid_ while Harry picks his outfit for the evening's concert with Caroline from wardrobe, kissing Harry's temple when he gets nervous because Paul just told him that _Elton John_ is going to be in the audience.

Harry had always insisted that, in spite of how eager he was for Louis to be his sugar baby dom, Louis's career was just as important as his. Keeping the shop was important to both of them, even if they didn't really need the money, and not just for sentimental value. But when Harry had asked Louis to marry him two days before he was going to leave for the next leg of his tour, Louis immediately hired Perrie to keep the shop full-time and packed up to travel with Harry around Europe. And yeah, it might be important that each of them continue to have their own lives even as they start on a new phase of building them together, but it's also pretty fucking nice to be with Louis always, especially as he considers running to the loo to vomit.

" _Elton's_ the one who should be nervous," Louis says, tugging on Harry's hair playfully. "You're the hot young thing who's usurping him."

"Don't even joke about that." Harry buries his head in the crook of his elbow while Louis rests his hand on the swell of Hary's arse, just a few inches above where the plug is splitting him open. "He's legend, I'm just—nobody."

 _You're not nobody_ , choruses everyone in the greenroom, but all Harry really hears is Louis whispering in his ear, "Come back to our room with me, baby."

The phone sex when Louis hadn't come with him on tour had been good. Great, even. That one time with the clothespins Harry might even go so far as to call life-changing. But no matter how patiently Harry had waited for Louis to text him back with permission to come during the last tour, that could _never_ be as good as Louis dragging him off to the bedroom that they share (if only for the week) and jerking Harry off whenever _Louis_ wants to see him come.

Even if he's supposedly the next Elton John ( _supposedly_ ), Harry spends a lot of time feeling like he can't control anything, and it's only when Louis is pulling roughly on his cock and telling him to come that Harry feels like that might be okay.

After Harry spills into Louis's hand, grappling his hands against the wall and keening noisily, Louis doesn't move to get his own cock out. Harry's been trained to take whatever Louis gives him, and he takes it all happily, the flogging and the teasing and the days on end without coming himself, but when Louis threatens not to let Harry get _him_ off, when he's _right there_ , it drives Harry crazy in a way he never thought he would still be able to feel around Louis, after all this time.

"Daddy, _please_."

Louis trails his finger over Harry's lip, smearing it with Harry's come. Harry shivers as Louis pumps his spent cock a few more times, keeping it hard. He's already mindless and oversensitive from his orgasm, so it takes all his concentration not to lick his lips until Louis gives him the nod.

"Please," he repeats. "Daddy..." They don't have time, there was only half an hour before sound check when they left, but—maybe Louis is trying to keep him hard enough to ride him. There's always time for that. Louis will _make_ time, if he needs to. Harry nuzzles against Louis's hand on his cheek and pleads for it, for _something_ , with his eyes.

"What do you need, baby?" Louis cocks his head and regards Harry with a smirk. "Just made you come."

"Lou." Harry gasps as Louis lets go of his cock, letting it bob down hard and slightly painful between Harry's legs. Louis still doesn't reach for his own zipper. "Can't—" Harry swallows. "I can't go onstage like this, let me make you come, please."

"Some of us have self-control, Harry." Louis sounds almost amused, but his cock is still straining the confines of his jeans and Harry needs it, needs it far more than he ever needs to come himself. "We responsible adults don't need to get off a half hour before every show."

It's not strictly true that Harry was the one who needed this— _Louis_ is the one who dragged him here, after all—but he definitely needs it now, and isn't afraid to say as much.

"I need it." Harry's hands curl into fists as he slumps against the wall. He bites his lip and darts his gaze between Louis's face and the bulge in his trousers. "Need your cock, Daddy, need to make you feel good."

Louis hums and puts both hands on Harry's hips, stepping closer to him and rubbing his erection against Harry's cock, softening without Louis's constant touch. "You can't even stay hard enough to fuck me." He tuts softly in Harry's ear. "My silly boy. I'll just get off myself, while you're on stage. Jerk myself off to the tune of one of your love songs. Would you sing extra good for me, if you knew that's what I was doing?"

" _Daddy_." Harry bites his lip as Louis pulls back slightly. "Daddy, please, please let me, let me see, let me make you feel good, I—"

"Do you think you deserve that, Harry?" Louis's palming himself now, and Harry groans in frustration, his fingers itching to touch him, but Louis hasn't said he's allowed. "Do you think you deserve to make your daddy come?"

Harry lets out a weak whine and closes his eyes. Louis kisses his cheek sweetly.

"You do," he whispers in Harry's ear. "Been so good for me. But you know I can't fuck your throat, baby. Not after last time."

Harry wouldn't be opposed to a repeat of last time. In fact, he'd go onstage hoarse from sucking cock every night if it meant a constant reminder that Louis was _with him_ _on tour_. But Louis's started toying with the plug that's been in his arse since this morning, and Harry's _really_ not opposed to that, either. "Fuck me," he mumbles, arching his back out and turning his face into the wall with a whimper as Louis fucks the plug in and out of him slightly. "Daddy, fuck me, please."

Louis hums. "My boy, you're already wet and open for me, aren't you?" He twists the plug between his fingers and Harry slams his fist against the wall, throwing back his head. It's a custom-made plug, plated in 24-karat gold, cost a fucking fortune, and feels worth every pence and more when Louis twists it inside him, feels like it means the entire world.

"Please," Harry says, barely glancing at the clock on the wall (twenty-two minutes to sound check and counting), "please fuck me, please fill me up with your come, Daddy I—"

"Wanna go onstage all full of my come?" Louis nips at Harry's neck and his stubble prickles against his skin.

"So much." Harry keens as Louis twists the plug harshly. "Daddy, _so_ much."

"Well, baby—" Louis pulls the plug out and Harry shudders. "Since you've been so good for me." It takes no time at all for Louis to produce lube out of nowhere, pull his jeans down to his thighs, and slick up his cock. Harry turns around quickly and presses his cheek against the wall, hands clutching his forearms behind his back as Louis nudges his legs open wider and slides his cock into him, hot and thick and so _good_ Harry's moans can probably be heard through the whole building as Louis fucks him with fingers digging hard into his hips. Louis doesn't try to silence him, even as Harry cries out louder than Louis does when he comes inside him, just kisses his shoulder blades and says _baby_ , _baby, my baby_ while Harry shakes all over.

When Louis pulls out and nestles the plug back inside Harry, keeping all Louis's come inside, Harry sighs in contentment and tries to blink himself back into focus as Louis pets over his hips lightly and trails kisses down his neck. Harry's own cock is hard again, already, and probably will be that way for a while, but Harry's accustomed enough to that. It's the odd look that Louis gives Harry as he picks up his pants that brings him most of the way back to earth. He pulls his pants up with one hand, the other clutching Louis's forearm for balance.

"Thank you." Harry squeezes Louis's arm. "That was great." He quirks an eyebrow and bites his lip as Louis frowns a little.

"You don't really have to wear it onstage." Louis runs his knuckle over the protruding end of the plug through Harry's pants. "I mean—you know, those jeans are _awfully_ tight, even for you. Or, if you think the vibrations might be too much—"

" _Daddy_." Harry snorts and rolls his eyes. "It's fine, I _swear_." Louis doesn't seem that convinced, so Harry elbows him. "You know I wouldn't mind if the front row got an eyeful, anyway."

Louis's expression softens a little and he smirks. "Even Elton?"

Harry smiles wide and sated. "He may have half a dozen Grammys, but I've got you."

Louis shakes his head a little, smiling. "You're such a sap when you're full of my come."

Harry kisses his cheek. "Always."

*

It's a good thing Harry's jeans are so tight that his boner sticks close to his thigh, because Louis spends the entire concert playing with the vibrator's remote. Between the high of performing, the slight twinges of pain in his cock, and the buzz of the plug reminding him of Louis's come inside him, it's pretty much only Louis's sternly worded warning that keeps Harry from coming right in front of Elton John.

Every so often Louis catches Harry's eye from offstage, and holds his thumb up, like a question, like _too much_? Every time Harry gives him a quick thumbs-up back, as if to say _more_.

Towards the end of the show, after he's thanked the band and the venue and the fans, the plug is still thrumming in Harry's arse as he clears his throat. "There's just one more person I'd like to thank, before our last song." Harry can practically hear Louis's groan from offstage as the applause for the band dies down. "My boyfriend is here tonight." A collective _aw_ emerges from the audience. "Well, he's here every night, actually," Harry says, scratching the back of his head and smiling what he is sure is an idiotic smile. "In fact, he's going to be here every night, for the rest of my life, because we're getting married."

It's not exactly news—it was on the front page of every gossip magazine in the world when they had gone into Rosso's and been photographed coming out wearing two rings—but the whole room still erupts in cheers like it's the best thing they've ever heard. Harry can relate. He turns to Louis, who's shaking his head offstage like he can't believe Harry is doing this _again_ , just like he has at every show so far this tour.

"Can you come out here, Lou?"

Louis walks out onto stage still shaking his head, but his hand is outstretched to meet Harry's and when he slots against Harry's side, he's smiling at least as stupidly as Harry is.

"Thanks for being here for me, love," Harry says, into the mic. He barely hears the crowd as Louis kisses him on the cheek quickly.

" _Such_ a sap when you're full of my come," Louis hisses in Harry's ear, flicking the vibrator on and off quickly for emphasis. Harry takes Louis's face in both his hands and kisses him.

Louis stiffens a little as the audience's shrieks reach a new level of piercing, and Harry retreats quickly. "Okay?" he mutters in Louis's ear, squeezing his hand.

Louis pulls back far enough to give Harry a thumbs-up. "Green. Very." Louis waves out at the crowd briefly and there's another wave of cheers, which only gets louder when he slaps Harry's arse. Harry's eyes flutter shut for a moment. Louis leans and whispers into his ear, "Now finish your damn concert so I can give you your reward." He backs off stage before Harry can cling to him anymore, wiggling his eyebrows and gesturing towards the audience.

Someday, Harry's going to convince Louis to join him for a duet on stage. Not today, but someday. Even with everything they've already done together (and that's more than most people ever do with _anyone_ ), there are a million more things Harry wants to do with Louis. But… they have time, is the thing. In fact, they have _forever._ For now, all that matters as he faces the screaming crowd is that Louis is behind him, and with him, and _in_ him, and he still will be after the show, after he licks his own come out of Harry, after Harry comes crying into the pillow (or doesn't). The lights may be going down in twenty minutes, but the vibrator in Harry's arse has a lifetime guarantee.

**Author's Note:**

> so that was that! now comes the promised resource list, but we'd like to stress again - this fic is not a manual! the scenes we wrote about are super heavy and requite practice and a _lot_ of knowledge. we compiled this list to answer any questions the fic may have risen, NOT as a substitute for proper research. so don't hurt yourself kiddos xx
> 
> ~RESOURCE LIST~ (for harry styles anon my man)
> 
>  **TOYS MENTIONED**  
> [gold butt plug](http://enchantasyslingeriemegastore.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=2414), [jewel plug](http://www.amazon.com/Kink-Industries-Jewel-Butt-Plug/dp/B003AYMQ4G), [remote control plug](http://www.amazon.com/Nasswalk-Fantasy-Control-Silicone-Waterproof/dp/B00EUWYTHO/ref=sr_1_1?s=hpc&ie=UTF8&qid=1402064219&sr=1-1&keywords=remote+control+butt+plug)  
> [flogger](http://www.detailstoys.com/high_inten_floggers.html), [love egg](http://www.amazon.com/Ushoppingcart-Novelties-Wireless-Beginner-Masturbation/dp/B00KA5QZU4/ref=sr_1_6?s=hpc&ie=UTF8&qid=1402064505&sr=1-6&keywords=love+egg), [spreader bar](http://www.amazon.com/Spreader-Handcuffs-Anklets-Restraints-Padlocks/dp/B00ASIELFY/ref=sr_1_5?s=hpc&ie=UTF8&qid=1402064636&sr=1-5&keywords=spreader+bar), [custom paddles](https://www.etsy.com/listing/166020112/daddy-laser-engraved-bdsm-spanking?ref=shop_home_active_17)
> 
>  **GENERAL D/S STUFF**  
> [negotiation](http://pervocracy.blogspot.com/2012/02/concise-kink-worksheet.html), [more negotiation](http://www.evilmonk.org/a/wiseman10.cfm), [humiliation](http://www.xeromag.com/fvbdhumiliation.html), [exhibitionism](http://www.altsubmission.com/wiitwd18.html), [cock rings](http://thehealthybear.com/can-cock-rings-be-risky/)
> 
> FISTING  
> [1](http://www.sacredtouchformen.com/fisting/), [2](http://www.sexuality.org/l/sex/handball.html), [3](http://www.scribd.com/doc/60844813/Hand-Balling), [4](http://fetishexchange.org/fisting01.shtml)
> 
> BONDAGE  
> [chains](http://bdsm-sexperts.blogspot.co.il/2008/12/bondage-hooks-and-chains-oh-my.html) (kind of creepy site), [rope](http://www.autostraddle.com/lesbian-bdsm-101-how-to-tie-someone-up-198567/), [more technical rope](http://www.scribd.com/doc/27566337/Rope-Bondage-101)
> 
> IMPACT PLAY  
> [general](http://loaded-gunn.tumblr.com/post/82537855206) (AMAZING), [paddling](http://www.chicagospankingreview.org/articlespage/how_to_paddle_strap_and_cane.html), [flogging](http://voices.yahoo.com/bdsm-101-basics-flogging-dominant-1845688.html?cat=25), [more flogging](http://voices.yahoo.com/bdsm-techniques-flogging-fun-66735.html?cat=41), [EVEN MORE flogging](http://www.scribd.com/doc/49613620/Intro-to-Flogging)


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